Mother

CORNELL

UNIVERSITY

LIBRARY

UNDERGRADUATE LIBRARY

Cornell University Library
PG 3463.M35A64

Mother,

3 1924 014 267 730

Cornell University
Library

The original of this book is in
the Cornell University Library.

There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.

http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924014267730

MOTHER

MOTHER

By

MAXIM GORKY

WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY

SIGMUND DE IVANOWSKI

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK . MCMVII

CoraiiGHT, 1906, 19W, by
D. AFPLBTON AND COMPANY

PttWi«Red A-fril, 1907

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

vxcisa

PAOS

" With somber faces . . . their muscles stiff with insuffi-
cient sleep "...... FrotttistUce

"The mother . . . strained her untrained mind to listen". 34

" It seemed to Vlasova that the officer was but waiting for

her tears " 92

" Taking out one package of books after the other, she

shoved them into the hands of the brothers " . .116

" The mother's heart quivered with impatience " . . 142

"'Listen, for the sake of Christ'" 232

" The men listened in silence " 296

" ' Run, run ! ' whispered the mother " 428

V

PART I

CHAPTER I

'VERY day the factory whistle bellowed
forth its shrill, roaring, trembling noises
into the smoke-begrimed and greasy atmos-
phere of the workingmen's suburb; and
obedient to the summons of the power of ■
steam, people poured out of little gray houses into the
street. With somber faces they hastened forward like
frightened roaches, their muscles stiff from insufficient
sleep. In the chill morning twilight they walked
through the narrow, unpaved street to the tall stone
cage that waited for them with cold assurance, illumin-
ing their muddy road with scores of greasy, yellow,
square eyes. The mud plashed under their feet as if in
mocking commiseration. Hoarse exclamations of sleepy
voices were heard; irritated, peevish, abusive language
rent the air with malice; and, to welcome the people,
deafening sounds floated about — the heavy whir of ma-
chinery, the dissatisfied snort of steam. Stern and som-
ber, the black chimneys stretched their huge, thick sticks
high above the village.

In the evening, when the sun was setting, and red
rays languidly glimmered upon the windows of the
houses, the factory ejected its people like burned-out
ashes, and again they walked through the streets, with
black, smoke-covered faces, radiating the sticky odor of
machine oil, and showing the gleam of hungry teeth.
But now there was animation in their voices, and even

3

MOTHER

gladness. The servitude of hard toil was over for the
day. Supper awaited them at home, and respite.

The day was swallowed up by the factory; the ma-
chine sucked out of men's muscles as much vigor as it
needed. The day was blotted out from life, not a trace
, of it left. Man ma(l(e another imperceptible step toward
his grave; but he saw close before him the delights of
rest, the joys of the odorous tavern, and he was satis-
-fied.

On holidays the workers slept until about ten o'clock.
Then the staid and married people dressed themselves in
their best clothes and, after duly scolding the young
folks for their indifference to church, went to hear mass.
When they returned from churchT'they ate pirogs, the
Russian national pastry, and again lay down to sleep until
the evening. The accumulated exhaustion of years had
robbed them of their appetites, and to be able to eat they
drank, long and deep, goading on their feeble stomachs
with the biting, burning lash of; vodka.

In the evening they amused themselves idly on the
street; and those who had overshoes put them on, even
if it was dry, and those who had umbrellas carried them,
even if the sun was shining. Not everybody has over-
shoes and an umbrella, but everybody desires in some
way, however small, to appear more important than his
neighbor.

Meeting one another they spoke about the factory
and the machines, had their fling against their foreman,
conversed and thought only of matters closely and mani-
festly connected with their work. Only rarely, and then
but faintly, did solitary sparks of impotent thought glim-
mer in the wearisome monotony of their talk. Returning
home they quarreled with their wives, and often beat
them, unsparing of their fists. The young people sat in

4

MOTHER

^ the taverns, or enjoyed evening parties at one another's
houses, played the accordion, sang vulgar songs devoid
of beauty, danced, talked ribaldry, and drank.

Exhausted with toil, men drank swiftly, and in every
heart there awoke and grew an incomprehensible, sickly
irritation. It demanded an outlet. Clutching tena-
ciously at every pretext for unloading themselves of this
disquieting sensation, they fell on one another for mere
trifles, with the spiteful ferocity of beasts, breaking into
^blee^ quarrels which sometimes ended in serious injury
and on rare occasions even in murder.

This lurking malice steadily increased, inveterate as
the incurable weariness in their muscles. They were bom
with this disease of the soul inherited from their fathers.
Like a black shadow it accompanied them to their
graves, spurring on their lives to crime, hideous in its
aimless cruelty and brutality.

On holidays the young people came home late at
night, dirty and dusty, their clothes torn, their faces
bruised, boasting maliciously of the blows they had struck
their companions, or the insults they had inflicted upon
them ; enraged or in tears over the indignities they them-
selves had suffered; drunken and piteous, unfortunate
and repulsive. Sometimes the boys would be brought
home by the mother or the father, who had picked them
up in the street or in a tavern, drunk to insensibility.
The parents scolded and swore at them peevishly, and
beat their spongelike bodies, soaked with liquor; then
more or less systematically put them to bed, in order to
rouse them to work early next morning, when the bel-
low of the whistle should sullenly course through the
air.

They scolded and beat the children soundly, not-
withstanding the fact that drunkenness and brawls

5

MOTHER

among young folk appeared perfectly legitimate to the
old people. When they were young they, too, had drunk
and fought; they, too, had been beaten by their mothers
and fathers. Life had always been like that. It flowed
on monotonously and slowly somewhere down the
muddy, turbid stream, year after year; and it was all
bound up in strong ancient customs and habits that led
them to do one and the same thing day in and day out.
None of them, it seemed, had either the time or the
desire to attempt to change this state of life.

Once in a long while a stranger would come to the
village. At first he attracted attention merely because
he was a stranger. Then he aroused a light, superficial
interest by the stories of the places where he had
worked. Afterwards the novelty wore off, the people
got used to him, and he remained unnoticed. From his
stories it was clear that the Jjie-rrf-the workingnifiicuja^as
JJlp.fiam^iMigyrryiinnhfrp And if so, then what was there
to talk about?

Occasionally, however, some stranger spoke curious
things never heard of in the suburb. The men did not
argue with him, but listened to his odd speeches with
incredulity. His words aroused blind irritation in some,
perplexed alarm in others, while still others were dis-
turbed by a feeble, shadowy glimmer of the hope of some-
thing, they knew not what. And they all began to drink
more in order to drive away the unnecessary, meddle-
some excitement.

Noticing in the stranger something unusual, the vil-
lagers cherished it long against him and treated the man
who was not like them with unaccountable apprehension.
It was as if they feared he would throw something
into their life which would disturb its straight, dismal
course. Sad and difficult, it was yet even in its tenor.

6

MOTHER

People were accustomed to the fact that life always op-
pressed them with the same power. Unhopeful of any
turn for the better, they regarded every change as capa-
ble only of increasing their burden.

And the workingmen of the suburb tacitly avoided
people who spoke unusual things to them. Then these
people disappeared again, going off elsewhere, and those
who remained in the factory lived apart, if they could not
blend and make one whole with the monotonous mass
in the village.

Living a life like that for some fifty years, a workman
died.

Thus also lived Michael Vlasov, a gloomy, sullen
man, with little eyes which looked at everybody from
under his thick eyebrows suspiciously, with a mistrust-
ful, evil smile. He was the best locksmith in the fac-
tory, and the strongest man in the village. But he was
insolent and disrespectful toward the foreman and the
superintendent, and therefore earned little; every holi-
day he beat somebody, and everyone disliked and feared
him.

More than one attempt was made to beat him in
turn, but without success. When Vlasov found himself
threatened with attack, he caught a stone in his hand,
or a piece of wood or iron, and spreading out his legs
stood waiting in silence for the enemy. His face over-
grown with a dark beard from his eyes to his neck, and
his hands thickly covered with woolly hair, inspired
everybody with iear. People were especially afraid of
his eyes. Small and keen, they seemed to bore through
a man like steel gimlets, and everyone who met their
gaze felt he was confronting a beast, a savage power, in-
accessible to fear, ready to strike unmercifully.

7

MOTHER

" Well, pack off, dirty vermin ! " he said gruffly. His.
coarse, yellow teeth glistened terribly through the thick
hair on his face. The men walked off uttering coward
abuse.

" Dirty vermin ! " he snapped at them, and his eyes
gleamed with a smile sharp as an awl. Then holding
his head in an attitude of direct challenge, with a short,
thick pipe between his teeth, he walked behind them, and
now and then called out : " Well, who wants death ? "

No one wanted it.

He spoke little, and " dirty vermin " was his favorite
expression. It was the name he used for the authorities
of the factory, and the police, and it was the epithet
with which he addressed his wife : " Look, you dirty
vermin, don't you see my clothes are torn ? "

When Pavel, his son, was a boy of fourteen, Vlasov
was one day seized with the desire to pull him by the
hair once more. But Pavel grasped a heavy hammer, and
said curtly :

" Don't touch me ! "

" What ! " demanded his father, bending over the
tall, slender figure of his son like a shadow on a birch
tree.

" Enough ! " said Pavel. " I am not going to give
myself up any more."

And opening his dark eyes wide, he waved the ham-
mer in the air.

His father looked at him, folded his shaggy hands
on his back, and, smiling, said:

"All right." Then he drew a heavy breath and
added : " Ah, you dirty vermin ! "

Shortly after this he said to his wife :

"Don't ask me for money any more. Pasha will
feed you now."

8

MOTHER

"And you will drink up everything?" she ventured
to ask.

" None of your business, dirty vermin ! " From that
time, for three years, until his death, he did not notice,
and did not speak to his son.

Vlasov had a dog as big and shaggy as himself. She
accompanied him to the factory every morning, and every
evening she waited for him at the gate. On holidays
Vlasov started off on his round of the taverns. He
walked in silence, and stared into people's faces as if
looking for somebody. His dog trotted after him the
whole day long. Returning home drunk he sat down to
supper, and gave his dog to eat from his own bowl.
He never beat her, never scolded, and never petted her.
After supper he flung the dishes from the table — ^if his
wife was not quick enough to remove them in time —
put a bottle of whisky before him, and leaning his back
against the wall, began in a hoarse voice that spread an-
guish about him to bawl a song, his mouth wide open
and his eyes closed. The doleful sounds got entangled
in his mustache, knocking off the crumbs of bread. He
smoothed down the hair of his beard and mustache with
his thick fingers and sang — sang unintelligible words,
long drawn out. The melody recalled the wintry howl
of wolves. He sang as long as there was whisky in
the bottle, then he dropped on his side upon the bench,
or let his head sink on the table, and slept in this
way until the whistle began to blow. The dog lay at
his side.

When he died, he died hard. For five days, turned
all black, he rolled in his bed, gnashing his teeth, his
eyes tightly closed. Sometimes he would say to his wife :
" Give me arsenic. Poison me."

She called a physician. He ordered hot poultices,

9

MOTHHR

but said an operation was necessary and the patient must
be taken at once to the hospital.

" Go to the devil ! I will die by myself, dirty ver-
min ! " said Michael.

And when the physician had left, and his wife with
tears in her eyes began to insist on an operation, he
clenched his fists and announced threateningly :

" Don't you dare! It will be worse for you if I get
well."

He died in the morning at the moment when the
whistle called the men to work. He lay in the coffin
with open mouth, his eyebrows knit as if in a scowl.
He was buried by his wife, his son, the dog, an old drunk-
ard and thief, Daniel Vyesovshchikov, a discharged
smelter, iand a few beggars of the suburb. His wife wept
a little and quietly ; Pa:vel did not weep at all. The vil-
lagers who met the funeral in the street stopped, crossed
themselves, and said to one another : " Guess Pelagueya
is glad he died ! " And some corrected : " He didn't die ;
he rotted away like a beast."

When the body was put in the ground, the people
went away, but the dog remained for a long time, and
sitting silently on the fresh soil, she sniffed at the grave.

10

CHAPTER II

^WO weeks after the death of his father, on
a Sunday, Pavel came home very drunk.
Staggering he crawled to a corner in the
front of the room, and striking his fist on
the table as his father used to do, shouted
to his mother :
"Supper!"

The mother walked up to him, sat down at his side,
and with her arm around her son, drew his head upon
her breast. With his hand on her shoulder he pushed her
away and shouted :
"Mother, quick!"

" You foolish boy ! " said the mother in a sad and
affectionate voice, trying to overcome his resistance.

" I am going to smoke, too. Give me father's pipe,"
mumbled Pavel indistinctly, wagging his tongue heavily.
It was the first time he had been drunk. The alcohol
weakened his body, but it did not quench his conscious-
ness, and the question knocked at his brain : " Drunk ?
Drunk?"

The fondling of his mother troubled him, and he was
touched by the sadness in her eyes. He wanted to weep,
and in order to overcome this desire he endeavored to
appear more drunk than he actually was.

The mother stroked his tangled hair, and said in a low
voice :

" Why did you do it ? You oughtn't to have done it."
2 II

MOTHMR

He began to feel sick, and after a violent attack of
nausea the mother put him to bed, and laid a wet towel
over his pale forehead. He sobered a little, but under
and around him everything seemed to be rocking; his
eyelids grew heavy; he felt a bad, sour taste in his mouth;
he looked through his eyelashes on his mother's large
face, and thought disjointedly :

" It seems it's too early for me. Others drink ^nd
nothing happens — and I feel sick."

Somewhere from a distance came the mother's soft
voice :

" What sort of a breadgiver will you be to me if you
begin to drink?"

He shut his eyes tightly and answered :

" Everybody drinks."

The mother sighed. He was right. She herself knew
that besides the tavern there was no place where people
could enjoy themselves; besides the taste of whisky
there was no other gratification. Nevertheless she said:

" But don't you drink. Your father drank for both
of you. And he made enough misery for me. Take
pity on your mother, then, will you not ? "

Listening to the soft, pitiful words of his mother,
Pavel remembered that in his father's lifetime she had
remained unnoticed in the house. She had been silent
and had always lived in anxious expectation of blows.
Desiring to avoid his father, he had been home very little
of late; he had become almost unaccustomed to his
mother, and now, as he gradually sobered up, he looked
at her fixedly.

She was tall and somewhat stooping. Her heavy
body, broken down with long years of toil and the beat-
ings of her husband, moved about noiselessly and in-
clined to one side, as if she were in constant fear of

12

MOTHER

knocking up against something. Her broad oval face,
wrinkled and puffy, was lighted up with a pair of dark
eyes, troubled and melancholy as those of most of the
women in the village. On her right eyebrow was a deep
scar, which turned the eyebrow upward a little ; her right
ear, too, seemed to be higher than the left, which gave
her face the appearance of alarmed listening. Gray
locks glistened in her thick, dark hair, like the imprints of
heavy blows. Altogether she was soft, melancholy, and
submissive.

Tears slowly trickled down her cheeks.

" Wait, don't cry ! " begged the son in a soft voice.
" Give me a drink."

She rose and said:

" I'll give you some ice water."

But when she returned he was already asleep. She
stood over him for a minute, trying to breathe lightly.
The cup in her hand trembled, and the ice knocked
against the tin. Then, setting the cup on the table, she
knelt before the sacred image upon the wall, and began
to pray in silence. The sounds of dark, drunken life
beat against the window panes; an accordion screeched
in the misty darkness of the autumn night; some one
sang a loud song; some one was swearing with ugly,
vile oaths, and the excited sounds of women's irritated,
weary voices cut the air.

' Life in the little house of the Vlasovs flowed on
monotonously, but more calmly and undisturbed than be-
fore, and somewhat different from everywhere else in
the suburb.

The house stood at the edge of the village, by a low
but steep and muddy decliyity. A third of the house was
occupied by the kitchen and a small room used for the

13

MOTHBR

mother's bedroom, separated from the kitchen by a parti-
tion reaching partially to the ceiling. The other two
thirds formed a square room with two windows. In one
corner stood Pavel's bed, in front a table and two
benches. Some chairs, a washstand with a small look-
ing-glass over it, a trunk with clothes, a clock on the
wall, and two ikons — ^this was the entire outfit of the
household.

Pavel tried to live like the rest. He did all a young
lad should do — ^bought himself an accordion, a shirt with
a starched front, a loud-colored necktie, overshoes, and a
cane. Externally he became like all the other youths of
his age. He went to evening parties and learned to
dance a quadrille and a polka. On holidays he came
home drunk, and always suffered greatly from the effects
of liquor. In the morning his head ached, he was tor-
mented by heartburns, his face was pale and dull.
Once his mother asked him:
"Well, did you have a good time yesterday?"
He answered dismally and with irritation:
" Oh, dreary as a graveyard ! Everybody is like a
machine. I'd better go fishing or buy myself a gun."

He worked faithfully, without intermission and with-
out incurring fines. He was taciturn, and his eyes, blue
and large like his mother's, looked out discontentedly.
He did not buy a gun, nor did he go a-fishing; but he
gradually began to avoid the beaten path trodden by all.
His attendance at parties became less and less frequent;
and although he went out somewhere on holidays, he
always returned home sober. His mother watched him
unobtrusively but closely, and saw the tawny face of her
son grow keener and keener, and his eyes more serious. |
She noticed that his lips were compressed in a peculiar
manner, imparting an odd expression of austerity to his j

MOTHMR

face. It seemed as if he were always angry at some-
thing, or as if a canker gnawed at him. At first his
friends came to visit him, but never finding him at home,
they remained away.

The mother was glad to see her son turning out dif-
ferent from all the other factory youth ; but a feeling of
anxiety and apprehension stirred in her heart when she
observed that he was obstinately and resolutely directing
his life into obscure paths leading away from the routine
existence about him — ^that he turned in his career neither
to the right nor the left.

He began to bring j)ooks home with him. At first
he tried to escape attention when reading them; and
after he had finished a book, he hid it. Sometimes he
copied a passage on a piece of paper, and hid that also.

"Aren't you well, Pavlusha?" the mother asked
once.

" I'm all right," he answered.

"You are so thin," said the mother with a sigh.

He was silent.

They spoke infrequently, and saw each other very
little. In the morning he drank tea in silence, and went
off to work ; at noon he came for dinner, a few insignifi-
cant remarks were passed at the table, and he again
disappeared until the evening. And in the evening, the
day's work ended, he washed himself, took supper, and
then fell to his books, and read for a long time. On
holidays he left home in the morning and returned late
at night. She knew he went to the city and the theater ;
but nobody from the city ever came to visit him. It
seemed to her that with the lapse, of time her son spoke
less and less; and at the same time she noticed that
occasionally and with increasing frequency he used new
words unintelligible to her, and that the coarse, rude,

IS

MOTHER

and hard expressions dropped from his speech. In his
general conduct, also, certain traits appeared, forcing
themselves upon his mother's attention. He ceased to
affect the dandy, but became more attentive to the
cleanliness of his body and dress, and moved more
freely and alertly. The increasing softness and sim-
plicity of his manner aroused a disquieting interest in
his mother.

Once he brought a picture and hung it on the wall.
It represented three persons walking lightly and boldly,
and conversing.

" This is Christ risen from the dead, and going to
Emmaus," explained Pavel.

The mother liked the picture, but she thought:

"You respect Christ, and yet you ido not go to
church."

Then more pictures appeared on the walls, arid the
number of books increased on the shelves neatly made
for him by one of his carpenter friends. The room be-
gan to look like a home.

He addressed his mother with the reverential plural
" you," and called her " mother " instead of " mamma."
But sometimes he turned to her suddenly, and briefly used
the simple and familiar form of the singular : " Mamma,
please be not thou disturbed if I come home late to-
night."

This pleased her; in such words she felt something
serious and strong.

But her uneasiness increased. Since her son's
strangeness was not clarified with time, her heart became
more and more sharply troubled with a foreboding of
something unusual. Every now and then she felt a cer-
tain dissatisfaction with him, and she thought : " All
people are like people, and he is like a monk. He is so

i6

MOTHER

stern. It's not according to his years." At other times
she thought : " Maybe he has become interested in some
sort of a girl down there."

But to go about with girls, money is needed, and he
gave almost all his earnings to her.

Thus weeks and months elapsed; and imperceptibly
two years slipped by, two years of a strange, silent life,
full of disquieting thoughts and anxieties that kept con-
tinually increasing.

Once, when after supper Pavel drew the curtain over
the window, sat down in a corner, and began to read,
his tin lamp hanging on the wall over his head, the
mother, after removing the dishes, came out from the
kitchen and carefully walked up to him. He raised his
head, and without speaking looked at her with a ques-
tioning expression.

" Nothing, Pasha, just so ! " she said hastily, and
walked away, moving her eyebrows agitatedly. But
after standing in the kitchen for a moment, motionless,
thoughtful, deeply preoccupied, she washed her hands
and approached her son again.

" I want to ask you," she said in a low, soft Toice,
" what you read all the time."

He put his book aside and said to her:

" Sit down, mother."

The mother sat down heavily at his side, and straight-
ening herself into an attitude of intense, painful expecta-
tion waited for something momentous,
I Without looking at her, Pavel spoke, not loudly, but
I for some reason very sternly:

" I am reading forbidden books. They are f orbid-
, den to be read because they tell the truth about our —
I about the workingmen's life. They are printed in se-
, cret, and if I am found with them I will be put in

17

MOTHER

prison — I will be f)Ut in prison because I want to know
the truth."

Breathing suddenly became difficult for her. Open-
ing her eyes wide she looked at her son, and he seemed
to her new, as if a stranger. His voice was different,
lower, deeper, more sonorous. He pinched his thin,
downy mustache, and looked oddly askance into the cor-
ner. She grew anxious for her son and pitied him.

"Why do you do this. Pasha?"

He raised his head, looked at her, and said in a low,
calm voice:

His voice sounded placid, but firm; and his eyes
flashed resolution. She understood with her heart that
her son had consecrated himself forever to something
mysterious and awful. Everything in life had always
appeared to her inevitable ; she was accustomed to submit
without thought, and now, too, she only wept softly,
finding no words, but in her heart she was oppressed with
sorrow and distress.

"Don't cry," said Pavel, kindly and softly; and it
seemed to her that he was bidding her farewell.

"Think what kind of a life you are leading. You
are forty years old, and have you lived? Father beat
you. I understand now that he avenged his wretched-
ness on your body, the wretchedness of his life. "^It
pressed upon him, and he did not know whence it came.
He worked for thirty years ; he began to work when the
whole factory occupied but two buildings ; now there are
seven of them. The mills grow, and people die, working
for them."

She listened to him eagerly and awestruck. His eyes
burned with a beautiful radiance. Leaning forward on
the table he moved nearer to his mother, and looking

i8

MOTHER

straight into her face, wet with tears, he deHvered his
first speech to her about the truth which he had now
come to understand. With the naivete of youth, and the
ardor of a young student proud of his knowledge, re-
ligiously confiding in its truth, he spoke about everything
that was clear to him, and spoke not so much for his
mother as to verify and strengthen his own opinions.
At times he halted, finding no words, and then he saw
before him a disturbed face, in which dimly shone a
pair of kind eyes clouded with tears. They looked on
with awe and perplexity. He was sorry for his mother,
and began to speak again, about herself and her life.

" What joys did you know ? " he asked. " What sort
of a past can you recall ? "

She listened and shook her head dolefully, feeling
something new, unknown to her, both sorrowful and
gladsome, like a caress to her troubled and aching heart.
It was the first time she had heard such language about
herself, her own life. It awakened in her misty, dim
thoughts, long dormant; gentlv roused an almost ex-
tinct feplinp- nf rebellion, perplexed dissatisfaction —
thoughts and feelings of a remote youth. She often
discussed life with her neighbors, spoke a great deal
about everything; but all, herself included, only com-
plained; no one explained why life was so hard and
burdensome.

And now her son sat before her; and what he said
about her — his eyes, his face, his words — it all clutched
at her heart, filling her with a sense of pride for her son,
who truly understood the life of his mother, and spoke
the truth about, her and her sufferings, and pitied her.

Mothers are not pitied. She knew it. She did not
understand Pavel when speaking about matters not per-
taining to herself, but all he said about her own woman's

19

MOTHER

existence was bitterly familiar and true. Hence it seemed
to her that every word of his was perfectly true, and her
bosom throbbed with a gentle sensation which warmed
it more and more with an unknown, kindly caress.

"What do you want to do, then?" she asked, in-
terrupting his speech.

"Study and then teach others. We workingmen
must study. We must learn, we must understand why
life is so hard for us."

It was sweet to her to see that his blue eyes, always
so serious and stern, now glowed with warmth, softly
illuminating something new within him. A soft, con-
tented smile played around her lips, although the tears
still trembled in the wrinkles of her face. She wavered
between two feelings: pride in her son who desired the
good of all people, had pity for all, and understood the
sorrow and affliction of life; and the involuntary regret
for his youth, because he did not speak like everybody
else, because he resolved to enter alone into a fight
against the life to which all, including herself, were ac-
customed.

She wanted to say to him : " My dear, what can you
do ? People will crush you. You will perish."

But it was pleasant to her to listen to his speeches, and
she feared to disturb her delight in her son, who sud-
denly revealed himself so new and wise, even if some-
what strange.

Pavel saw the smile around his mother's lips, the at-
tention in her face, the love in her eyes ; and it seemed to
him that he compelled her to understand his truth ; and
youthful pride in the power of his word heightened his
faith in himself. Seized with enthusiasm, he continued
to talk, now smiling, now frowning. Occasionally hatred
sounded in his words ; and when his mother heard its bit-

20

MOTHER

ter, harsh accents she shook her head, frightened, and
asked in a low voice :

"Is it so. Pasha?"

" It is so ! " he answered firmly. And he told her
about people who wanted the good of men, and whcf
sowed truth among them; and because of this the
enemies of life hunted them down like beasts, thrust
them into prisons, and exiled them, and set them to
hard labor.

" I have seen such people ! " he exclaimed passion-
ately. " They are the best people on earth ! "

These people filled the mother with terror, and she
wanted to ask her son : " Is it so. Pasha ? "

But she hesitated, and leaning back she listened to the
stories of people incomprehensible to her, who taught her
son to speak and think words and thoughts so danger-
ous to him. Finally she said ;

" It will soon be daylight. You ought to go to bed.
You've got to go to work."

" Yes, I'll go to bed at once," he assented. " Did you
understand me ? "

" I did," she said, drawing a deep breath. Tears
rolled down from her eyes again, and breaking into sobs
she added : " You will perish, my son ! "

Pavel walked up and down the room.

" Well, now you know what I am doing and where
I am going. I told you all. I beg of you, mother, if you
love me, do not hinder me ! "

"My darling, my beloved!" she cried, "maybe it
would be better for me not to have known anything ! "

He took her hand and pressed it firmly in his. The
word "mother," pronounced by him with feverish em-
phasis, and that clasp of the hand so new and strange,
moved her.

21

MOTHMR

"I will do nothing!" she said in a broken voice,
" Only be on your guard ! Be on your guard ! " Not
knowing what he should be on his guard against, nor
how to warn him, she added mournfully: " You are get-
ting so thin."

And with a look of affectionate warmth, which
seemed to embrace his firm, well-shaped body, she said
hastily, and in a low voice :

" God be with you ! Live as you want to. I will not
hinder you. One thing only I beg of you — do not speak
to people unguardedly ! You must be on the watch with
people; they all hate one another. They live in greed
and envy ; all are glad to do injury ; people persecute out
of sheer amusement. When you begin to accuse them
and to judge them, they will hate you, and will hound
you to destruction 1 "

Pavel stood in the doorway listening to the melan-
choly speech, and when the mother had finished he said
with a smile :

" Yes, people are sorry creatures ; but when I came to
recognize that there is truth in the world, people became
better." He smiled again and added : " I do not know
how it happened myself! From childhood I feared
everybody; as I grew up I began to hate everybody,
some for their meanness, others — ^well, I do not know
why — just so ! And now I see all the people in a differ-
ent way. I am grieved for them all ! I cannot under-
stand it; but my heart turned softer when I recognized
that there is truth in men, and that not all are to blame
for their foulness and filth."

He was silent as if listening to something within him-
self. Then he said in a low voice and thoughtfully :

" That's how truth lives."

She looked at him tenderly.

22

MOTHMR

" May God protect you ! " she sighed. " It is a dan-
gerous change that has come upon you."

When he had fallen asleep. Jh^ mother rose carefully
from her bed and came gently into her son's room.
Pavel's swarthy, resolute, stern face was clearly out-
lined against the white pillow. Pressing her hand to her
bosom, the mother stood at his bedside. Her lips moved
mutely, and great tears rolled down her cheeks.

23

CHAPTER III

'GAIN they lived in silence, distant and yet
near to each other. Once, in the middle
of the week, on a holiday, as he was pre-
paring to leave the house he said to his
mother :

" I expect some people here on Saturday."
" What people? " she asked.

" Some people from our village, and others from the
city."

" From the city ? " repeated the mother, shaking her
head. And suddenly she broke into sobs.

" Now, mother, why this ? " cried Pavel resentfully.
"What for?"

Drying her face with her apron, she answered
quietly :

" I don't know, but it is the way I feel."
He paced up and down the room, then halting before
her, said :

" Are you afraid ? "

" I am afraid," she acknowledged. " Those people
from the city — who knows them ? "

He bent down to look in her face, and said in an of-
fended tone, and, it seemed to her, angrily, like his
father :

" ^bis f'*"'" ''« 'y^^"*^ '" *^'' '•'"'n nf iii_2lL And some
dominate us; they take advantage of our fear and

24

MOTHER

frighten us still more. Mark this : as long as people are
afraid, they will rot like the birches in the marsh. We
must grow bold : Jt is time !

" It's all the same," he said, as he turned from her ;
" they'll meet in my house, anyway."

" Don't be angry with me ! " the mother begged sadly.
" How can I help being afraid ? All my life I have lived
in fear ! "

" Forgive me ! " was his gentler reply, " but I cannot
do otherwise," and he walked away.

For three days her heart was in a tremble, sinking in
fright each time she remembered that strange people
were soon to come to her house. She could not picture
them to herself, but it seemed to her they were terrible
people. It was they who had shown her son the road he
was going.

On Saturday night Pavel came from the factory,
washed himself, put on clean clothes, and when walking
out of the house said to his mother without looking
at her:

" When they come, tell them I'll be back soon. Let
them wait a while. And please don't be afraid. They
are people like all other people."

She sank into her seat almost fainting.

Her son looked at her soberly. " Maybe you'd bet-
ter go away somewhere," he suggested.

The thought offended her. Shaking her head in dis-
sent, she said :

" No, it's all the same. What for? "

It was the end of November. During the day a dry,
fine snow had fallen upon the frozen earth, and now she
heard it crunching outside the window under her son's
feet as he walked away. A dense crust of darkness set-
tled immovably upon the window panes, and seemed to

25

MOTHER

lie in hostile watch for something. Supporting herself
on the bench, the mother sat and waited, looking at the
door.

It seemed to her that people were stealthily and
watchfully walking about the house in the darkness,
stooping and looking about on all sides, strangely
attired and silent. There around the house some one
was already coming, fumbling with his hands along the
wall.

A whistle was heard. It circled around like the notes
of a fine chord, sad and melodious, wandered musingly
into the wilderness of darkness, and seemed to be search-
ing for something. It came nearer. Suddenly it died
away under the window, as if it had entered into the
wood of the wall. The noise of feet was heard on the
porch. The mother started^ and rose with a strained,
frightened look in her eyes.

The door opened. At first a head with a big, shaggy
hat thrust itself into the room ; then a slender, bending
body crawled in, straightened itself out, and deliberately
raised its right hand.

" Good evening ! " said the man, in a thick, bass voice,
breathing heavily.

The mother bowed in silence.

" Pavel is not at home yet ? "

The stranger leisurely removed his short fur jacket,
raised one foot, whipped the snow from his boot with his
hat, then did the same with the other foot, flung his hat
into a corner, and rocking on his thin legs walked into the
room, looking back at the imprints he left on the floor.
He approached the table, examined it as if to satisfy
himself of its solidity, and finally sat down and, covering
his mouth with his hand, yawned. His head was per-
fectly round and close-cropped, his face shaven except

26

MOTHER

for a thin mustache, the ends of which pointed down-
ward.

After carefully scrutinizing the room with his large,
gray, protuberant eyes, he crossed his legs, and, leaning
his head over the table, inquired :

" Is this your own house, or do you rent it? "

The mother, sitting opposite him, answered :

" We rent it."

" Not a very fine house," he remarked.

" Pasha will soon be here ; wait," said the mother
quietly.

" Why, yes, I am waiting," said the man.

His calmness, his deep, sympathetic voice, and the
candor and simplicity of his face encouraged the mother.
He looked at her openly and kindly, and a merry sparkle
played in the depths of his transparent eyes. In the
entire angular, stooping figure, with its thin legs, there
was something comical, yet winning. He was dressed in
a blue shirt, and dark, loose trousers thrust into his boots.
She was seized with the desire to ask him who he was,
whence he came, and whether he had known her son
long. But suddenly he himself put a question, leaning
forward with a swing of his whole body.

" Who made that hole in your forehead, mother ? "

His question was uttered in a kind voice and with a
noticeable smile in his eyes ; but the woman was offended
by the sally. She pressed her lips together tightly, and
after a pause rejoined with cold civility:

" And what business is it of yours, sir ? "

With the same swing of his whole body toward her,
he said:

" Now, don't get angry ! I ask because my foster
mother had her head smashed just exactly like yours. It
was her man who did it for her once, with a last —
3 27

MOTHER

he was a shoemaker, yOu see. She was a washerwoman
and he was a shoemaker. It was after she had taken me
as her son that she found him somewhere, a drunkard,
and married him, to her great misfortune. He beat
her — I tell you, my skin almost burst with terror."

The mother felt herself disarmed by his openness.
Moreover, it occurred to her that perhaps her son would
be displeased with her harsh reply to this odd personage.
Smiling guiltily she said :

" I am not angry, but — you see — ^you asked so very
soon. It was my good man, God rest his soul! who
treated me to the cut. Are you a Tartar? "

The stranger stretched out his feet, and smiled so
broad a smile that the ends of his mustache traveled to
the nape of his neck. Then he said seriously :

" Not yet. I'm not a Tartar yet."

" I asked because I rather thought the way you spoke
was not exactly Russian," she explained, catching his
joke.

" I am better than a Russian, I am ! " said the guest
laughingly. " I am a Little Russian from the city of
Kanyev."

" And have you been here long? "

" Ilived in the city about a month, and I came to your
factory about a month ago. I found some good people,
your son and a few others. I will live here for a while,"
he said, twirling his mustache.

The man pleased the mother, and, yielding to the im-
pulse to repay him in some way for his kind words aboul
her son, she questioned again:

" Maybe you'd like to have a glass of tea ? "

" What ! An entertainment all to myself ! " he an-
swered, raising his shoulders. " I'll wait for the honor
until we are all here."

28

MOTHMR

This allusion to the coming of others recalled her
fear to her.

" If they all are only like this one ! " was her ardent
wish.

Again steps were heard on the porch. The door
opened quickly, and the mother rose. This time she
was taken completely aback by the newcomer in her
kitchen — a. poorly and lightly dressed girl of medium
height, with the simple face of a peasant woman, and
a head of thick, dark hair. Smiling she said in a low
voice :

"Am I late?"

" Why, no ! " answered the Little Russian, looking
out of the living room. " Come on foot ? "

"Of course! Are you the mother of Pavel Vlasov?
Good evening ! My name is Natasha."

" And your other name ? " inquired the mother.

" Vasilyevna. And yours ? "

"Pelagueya Nilovna."

" So here we are all acquainted."

" Yes," said the mother, breathing more easily, as if
relieved, and looking at the girl with a smile.

The Little Russian helped her off with her cloak, and
inquired :

"Is it cold?"

" Out in the open, very ! The wind — goodness ! "

Her voice was musical and clear, her mouth small
and smiling, her body round and vigorous. Removing
her wraps, she rubbed her ruddy cheeks briskly with her
little hands, red with the cold, and walking lightly and
quickly she passed into the room, the heels of her shoes
rapping sharply on the floor.

" She goes without overshoes," the mother noted
silently.

29

MOTHER

" Indeed it is cold," repeated the girl. " I'm frozen
through — ooh ! "

"I'll warm up the samovar for you!" the mother
said, bustling and solicitous. " Ready in a moment," she
called from the kitchen.

Somehow it seemed to her she had known the girl
long, and even loved her with the tender, compassionate
love of a mother. She was glad to see her ; and recall-
ing her guest's bright blue eyes, she smiled contentedly,
as she prepared the samovar and listened to the conver-
sation in the room.

" Why so gloomy, Nakhodka ? " asked the girl.

" The widow has good eyes," answered the Little
Russian. " I was thinking maybe my mother has such
eyes. You know, I keep thinking of her as alive."

" You said she was dead ? "

" That's my adopted mother. I am speaking now of
my real mother. It seems to me that perhaps she may
be somewhere in Kiev begging alms and drinking
whisky."

" Why do you think such awful things ? "

" I don't know. And the policemen pick her up on
the street drunk and beat her."

"Oh, you poor soul," thought the mother, and
sighed.

Natasha muttered something hotly and rapidly; and
again the sonorous voice of the Little Russian was heard.

" Ah, you are young yet, comrade," he said. " You
haven't eaten enough onions yet. Everyone has a
mother, none the less people are bad. For although it is
hard to rear children, it is still harder to teach a man
to be good."

"What strange ideas he has," the mother thought,
and for a moment she felt like contradicting the Little

30

MOTHMR

Russian and telling him that here was she who would
have been glad to teach her son good, but knew nothing
herself. The door, however, opened and in came Nikolay
Vyesovshchikov, the son of the old thief Daniel, known
in the village as a misanthrope. He always kept at a
sullen distance from people, who retaliated by making
sport of him.

" You, Nikolay ! How's that ? " she asked in sur-
prise.

Without replying he merely looked at the mother
with his little gray eyes, and wiped his pockmarked, high-
cheeked face with the broad palm of his hand.

" Is Pavel at home ? " he asked hoarsely.

" No."

He looked into the room and said :

" Good evening, comrades."

" He, too. Is it possible? " wondered the mother re-
sentfully, and was greatly surprised to see Natasha put
her hand out to him in a kind, glad welcome.

The next to come were two young men, scarcely
more than boys. One of them the mother knew. He
was Yakob, the son of the factory watchman, Somov.
The other, with a sharp- featured face, high forehead, and
curly hair, was unknown to her; but he, too, was not
terrible.

Finally Pavel appeared, and with him two men, both
of whose faces she recognized as those of workmen in
the factory.

" You've prepared the samovar ! That's fine. Thank
you ! " said Pavel as he saw what his mother had
done.

" Perhaps I should get some vodka," she suggested,
not knowing how to express her gratitude to him for
something which as yet she did not understand.

31

MOTHER

" No, we don't need it ! " he responded, removing his
coat and smiling affectionately at her.

It suddenly occurred to her that her son, by way of
jest, had purposely exaggerated the danger of the gath-
ering.

"Are these the ones they call illegal people?" she
whispered.

" The very ones ! " answered Pavel, and passed into
the room.

She looked lovingly after him and thought to herself
condescendingly :

"Mere children!"

When the samovar boiled, and she brought it into the
room, she found the guests sitting in a close circle around
the table, and Natasha installed in the corner under the
lamp with a book in her hands.

" In order to understand why people live so badly,"
said Natasha.

" And why they are themselves so bad," put in the
Little Russiaii.

" It is necessary to see how they began to live "

" See, my dears, see ! " mumbled the mother, making
the tea.

They all stopped talking.

" What is the matter, mother ? " asked Pavel, knitting
his brows.

" What ? " She looked around, and seeing the eyes
of all upon her she explained with embarrassment, "I
was just speaking to myself."

Natasha laughed and Pavel smiled, but the Little
Russian said : " Thank you for the tea, mother."

"Hasn't drunk it yet and thanks me already," she
commented inwardly. Looking at her son, she asked:
" I am not in your way ? "

32

MOTHER

" How can the hostess in her own home be in the way
of her guests ? " replied Natasha, and then continuing
with childish plaintiveness : " Mother dear, give me tea
quick! I am shivering with cold; my feet are all
frozen."

" In a moment, in a moment ! " exclaimed the mother,
hurrying.

Having drunk a cup of tea, Natasha drew a long
breath, brushed her hair back from her forehead, and
began to read from a large yellow-covered book with
pictures. The mother, careful not to make a noise with
the dishes, poured tea into the glasses, and strained tier
untrained mind to listen to the girl's fluent reading. The
melodious voice blended with the thin, musical hum of
the samovar. The clear, simple narrative of savage peo-
ple who lived in caves and killed the beasts with stones
floated and quivered like a dainty ribbon in the room. It
sounded like a tale, and the mother looked up to her son
occasionally, wishing to ask him what was illegal in the
story about wild men. But she soon ceased to follow
the narrative and began to scrutinize the guests, unnoticed
by them or her son.

Pavel sat at Natasha's side. He was the handsomest
of them all. Natasha bent down very low over the book.
At times she tossed back the thin curls that kept running
down over her forehead, and lowered her voice to say
something not in the book, with a kind look at the faces
of her auditors. The Little Russian bent his broad chest
over a comer of the table, and squinted his eyes in the
effort to see the worn ends of his mustache, which he
constantly twirled. Vyesovshchikov sat on his chair
straight as a pole, his palms resting on his knees, and his
pockmarked face, browless and thin-lipped, immobile as
a mask. He kept his narrow-eyed gaze stubbornly fixed

33

MOTHER

upon the reflection of his face in the glittering brass of
the samovar. He seemed not even to breathe. Little
Somov moved his lips mutely, as if repeating to himself
the words in the book; and his curly-haired companion,
with bent body, elbows on knees, his face supported;,on
his hands, smiled abstractedly. One of the men who had
entered at the same time as Pavel, a slender young chap
with red, curly hair and merry green eyes, apparently
wanted to say something ; for he kept turning around im-
patiently. The other, light-haired and closely cropped;
stroked his head with his hand and looked down on the
floor so that his face remained invisible.

It was warm in the room, and the atmosphere was
genial. The mother responded to this peculiar charm,
which she had never before felt. She was affected by the
purling of Natasha's voice, mingled with the quavering
hum of the samovar, and recalled the noisy evening par-
ties of her youth — ^the coarseness of the young men,
whose breath always smelled of vodka — ^their cynical
jokes. She remembered all this, and an oppressive sense
of pity for her own self gently stirred her worn, out-
raged heart.

Before her rose the scene of the wooing of her hus-
band. At one of the parties he had seized her in a dark
porch, and pressing her with his whole body to the wall
asked in a gruff, vexed voice:

" Will you marry me ? "

She had been pained and Rad felt offended; but he
rudely dug his fingers into her flesh, snorted heavily, and
breathed his hot, humid breath into her face. She strug-
gled to tear herself out of his grasp.

" Hold on !" he roared. "Answer me I Well?" ;;

Out of breath, shamed and insulted, she remained
silent.

34

"The mother , . . strained her untrained mind to hsten."

MOTHMR

" Don't put on airs now, you fool ! I know your kind.
You are mighty pleased."

Some one opened the door. He let her go leisurely,
saying :

" I will send a matchmaker to you next Sunday."

And he did.

The mother covered her eyes and heaved a deep sigh.

" I do not want to know how people used to live, but
how they ought to live ! " The dull, dissatisfied voice of
Vyesovshchikov was heard in the room.

" That's it ! " corroborated the red-headed man,
rising.

" And I disagree ! " cried Somov. " If we are to go
forward, we must know everything."

" True, true ! " said the curly-headed youth in a low
tone.

A heated discussion ensued; and the words flashed
like tongues of fire in a wood pile. The mother did not
understand what they were shouting about. All faces
glowed in an aureole of animation, but none grew angry,
no one spoke the harsh, offensive words so familiar
to her.

" They restrain themselves on account of a woman's
presence," she concluded.

The serious face of Natasha pleased her. The young
woman looked at all these young men so considerately,
with the air of an elder person toward children.

"Wait, comrades," she broke out suddenly. And
they all grew silent and turned their eyes upon her.

" Those who say that we ought to know everything
are right. We ought to illumine ourselves with the light
of reason, so that the people in the dark may see us;
we ought to be able to answer every question honestly

35

MOTHER

and truly. We must know all the truth, all the false-
hood."

The Little Russian listened and nodded his head in
accompaniment to her words. Vyesovshchikov, the red-
haired fellbw, and the other factory worker, who had
come with Pavel, stood in a close circle of three. For
some reason the mother did not like them.

When Natasha ceased talking, Pavel arose and asked
calmly :

" Is filling our stomachs the only thing we want?"

" No ! " he answered himself, looking hard in the di-
rection of the three. " We want to be people. We must
show those who sit on our necks, and cover up our eyes,
that we see everything, that we are not foolish, we are
not animals, and that we do not want merely to eat, but
also to live like decent human beings. We must show
our enemies that our life of servitude, of hard toil which
they impose upon us, does not hinder us from measuring
up to them in intellect, and as to spirit, that we rise far
above them ! "

The mother listened to his words, and a feeling of
pride in her son stirred her bosom — ^how eloquently he
spoke !

" People with well-filled stomachs are, after all, not
a few, but honest people there are none," said the Little
Russian. " We ought to build a bridge across the bog
of this rotten life to a future of soulful goodness. That's
our task, that's what we have to do, comrades ! "

" When the time is come to fight, it's not the time to
cure the finger," said Vyesovshchikov dully.

" There will be enough breaking of our bones before
we get to fighting! " the Little Russian put in merrily.

It was already past midnight when the group be-
gan to break up. The first to go were Vyesovshchikov

36

MOTHER

and the red-haired man — which again displeased the
mother.

" Hm ! How they hurry ! " she thought, nodding
them a not very friendly farewell.

" Will you see me home, Nakhodka?" asked Natasha.

" Why, of course," answered the Little Russian.

When Natasha put on her wraps in the kitchen, the
mother said to her : " Your stockings are too thin for this
time of the year. Let me knit some woolen ones for you,
will you, please?"

" Thank you, Pelagueya Nilovna. Woolen stockings
scratch," Natasha answered, smiling.

" I'll make them so they won't scratch."

Natasha looked at her rather perplexedly, and her
fixed serious glance hurt the mother.

" Pardon me my stupidity ; like my good will, it's
from my heart, you know," she added in a low voice.

" How kind you are ! " Natasha answered in the same
voice, giving her a hasty pressure of the hand and walk-
ing out.

" Good night, mother ! " said the Little Russian, look-
ing into her eyes. His bending body followed Natasha
out to the porch.

The mother looked at her son. He stood in the room
at the door and smiled.

" The evening was fine," he declared, nodding his
head energetically. " It was fine ! But now I think
you'd better go to bed ; it's time."

" And it's time for you, too. I'm going in a minute."

She busied herself about the table gathering the
dishes together, satisfied and even glowing with a pleas-
urable agitation. She was glad that everything had gone
so well and had ended peaceably.

" You arranged it nicely, Pavlusha. They certainly
37

MOTHMR

are good people. The Little Russian is such a hearty fel-
low. And the young lady, what a bright, wise girl she
is! Who is she?"

"A teacher," answered Pavel, pacing up and down
the room.

" Ah ! Such a poor thing ! Dressed so poorly ! Ah,
so poorly! It doesn't take long to catch a cold. And
where are her relatives ? "

" In Moscow," said Pavel, stopping before his
mother. " Look ! her father is a rich man ; he is in the
hardware business, and owns much property. He drove
her out of the house because she got into this movement.
She grew up in comfort and warmth, she was coddled
and indulged in everything she desired — and now she
walks four miles at night all by herself."

The mother was, shocked. She stood in the middle
of the room, and looked mutely at her son. Then she
asked quietly:

" Is she going to the city ? "

" Yes."

" And is she not afraid ? "

" No," said Pavel smiling.

" Why did she go ? She could have stayed here over-
night, and slept with me."

" That wouldn't do. She might have been seen here
to-morrow morning, and we don't want that; nor does
she."

The mother recollected her previous anxieties,
looked thoughtfully through the window, and asked :

" I cannot understand, Pasha, what there is danger-
ous in all this, or illegal. Why, you are not doing any-
thing bad, are you ? "

She was not quite assured of the safety and propriety
of his conduct, and was eager for a confirmation from

38

MOTHMR

her son. But he looked calmly into her eyes, and de-
clared in a firm voice:

" There is nothing bad in what we're doing, and
there's not going to be. And yet the prison is awaiting
us all. You may as well know it."

Her hands trembled. " Maybe God will grant you
escape somehow," she said with sunken voice.

" No," said the son kindly, but decidedly. " I cannot
lie to you. We will not escape." He smiled. " Now
go to bed. You are tired. Good night."

Left alone, she walked up to the window, and stood
there looking into the street. Outside it was cold and
cheerless. The wind howled, blowing the snow from the
roofs of the little sleeping houses. Striking against the
walls and whispering something, quickly it fell upon the
ground and drifted the white clouds of dry snowflakes
across the street.

" O Christ in heaven, have mercy upon us ! " prayed
the mother.

The tears began to gather in her eyes, as fear re-
turned persistently to her heart, and like a moth in the
night she seemed to see fluttering the woe of which her
son spoke with such composure and assurance.

Before her eyes as she gazed a smooth plain of snow
spread out in the distance. The wind, carrying white,
shaggy masses, raced over the plain, piping cold, shrill
whistles. Across the snowy expanse moved a girl's fig-
ure, dark and solitary, rocking to and fro. The wind
fluttered her dress, clogged her footsteps, and drove
pricking snowflakes into her face. Walking was diffi-
cult ; the little feet sank into the snow. Cold and fearful
the girl bent forward, like a blade of grass, the sport of
the wanton wind. To the right of her on the marsh
stood the dark wall of the forest; the bare birches and

39

MOTHER

aspens quivered and rustled with a mournful cry. Yon-
der in the distance, before her, the lights of the city glim-
mered dimly.

" Lord in heaven, have mercy ! " the mother mut-
tered again, shuddering with the cold and horror of an
unformed fear.

40

CHAPTER IV

'HE days glided by one after the other, Hke
the beads of a rosary, and grew into weeks
and months. Every Saturday Pavel's
friends gathered in his house; and each
meeting formed a step up a long stairway,
which led somewhere into the distance, gradually lifting
the people higher and higher. But its top remained in-
visible.

New people kept coming. The small room of the
Vlasovs became crowded and close. Natasha arrived
every Saturday night, cold and tired, but always fresh
and lively, in inexhaustible good spirits. The mother
made stockings, and herself put them on the little feet.
Natasha laughed at first; but suddenly grew silent and
thoughtful, and said in a low voice to the mother :

" I had a nurse who was also ever so kind. How
strange, Pelagueya Nilovna! The workingmen live such
a hard, outraged life, and yet there is more heart, more
goodness in them than in — those ! " And she waved her
hand, pointing somewhere far, very far from herself.

" See what sort of a person you are," the older
woman answered. " You have left your own family and
everything — " She was unable to finish her thought, and
heaving a sigh looked silently into Natasha's face with
a feeling of gratitude to the girl for she knew not what.
She sat on the floor before Natasha, who smiled and fell
to musing.

41

MOTHER

" I have abandoned my family? " she repeated, bend-
ing her head down. " That's nothing. My father is a
stupid, coarse man — my brother also — and a drunkard,
besides. My oldest sister— unhappy, wretched thing-
married a man much older than herself, very rich, a bore
and greedy. But my mother I am sorry for ! She's a
simple woman like you, a beaten-down, frightened crea-
ture, so tiny, like a little mouse — she runs so quickly and
is afraid of everybody. And sometimes I want to see
her so — my mother ! "

" My poor thing ! " said the mother sadly, shaking her
head.

The girl quickly threw up her head and cried out:

" Oh, no ! At times I feel such joy, such happiness! "

Her face paled and her blue eyes gleamed. Placing
her hands on the mother's shoulders she said with a deep
voice issuing from her very heart, quietly as if in an
ecstasy :

" If you knew — if you but understood what a great,
joyous work we are doing ! You will come to feel it ! "
she exclaimed with conviction.

A feeling akin to envy touched the heart of the
mother. Rising from the floor she said plaintively:

" I am too old for that — ignorant and old."

Pavel spoke more and more often and at greater
length, discussed more and more hotly, and — grew thin-
ner and thinner. It seemed to his mother that when he
spoke to Natasha or looked at her his eyes turned softer,
his voice sounded fonder, and his entire bearing became
simpler.

"Heaven grant!" she thought; and imagining Na-
tasha as her daughter-in-law, she smiled inwardly.

Whenever at the meetings the disputes waxed too hot
and stormy, the Little Russian stood up, and rocking

42

MOTHER

himself to and fro like the tongue of a bell, he spoke in
his sonorous, resonant voice simple and good words
which allayed their excitement and recalled them to
their purpose. Vyesovshchikov always kept hurrying
everybody on somewhere. He and the red-haired youth
called Samoylov were the first to begin all disputes. On
their side were always Ivan Bukin, with the round head
and the white eyebrows and lashes, who looked as if he
had been hung out to dry, or washed out with lye ; and
the curly-headed, lofty-browed Fedya Mazin. Modest
Yakob Somov, always smoothly combed and clean, spoke
little and briefly, with a quiet, serious voice, and always
took sides with Pavel and the Little Russian.

Sometimes, instead of Natasha, Alexey Ivanovich, a
native of some remote government, came from the city.
He wore eyeglasses, his beard was shiny, and he spoke
with a peculiar singing voice. He produced the impres-
sion of a stranger from a far-distant land. He spoke
about simple matters — about family life, about children,
about commerce, the police, the price of bread and meat
— about' everything by which people live from day to
day; and in everything he discovered fraud, confusion,
and stupidity, sometimes setting these matters in a hu-
morous light, but always showing their decided disadvan-
tage to the people. ',

To the mother, too, it seemed that he had come from
far away, from another country, where all the people
lived a simple, honest, easy life, and that here everything
was strange to him, that he could not get accustomed to
this life and accept it as inevitable, that it displeased
him, and that it aroused in him a calm determination to
rearrange it after his own model. His face was yel-
lowish, with thin, radiate wrinkles around his eyes, his
voice low, and his hands always warm. In greeting the
4 43

MOTHER

mother he would enfold her entire hand in his long, pow-
erful fingers, and after such a vigorous hand clasp she
felt more at ease and lighter of heart.

Other people came from the city, oftenest among them
a tall, well-built young girl with large eyes set in a thin,
pale face. She was called Sashenka. There was some-
thing manly in her walk and movements; she knit her
thick, dark eyebrows in a frown, and when she spoke
the thin nostrils of her straight nose quivered.

She was the first to say, " We are socialists ! " Her
voice when she said it was loud and strident.

When the mother heard this word, she stared in dumb
fright into the girl's face. But Sashenka, half closing
her eyes, said sternly and resolutely : " We must give
up all our forces to the cause of the regeneration of
life; we must realize that we will receive no recom-
pense."

The mother understood that the socialists had killed
t|ie Czar. It had happened in the days of her youth;
and people had then said that the landlords, wishing to
revenge themselves on the Czar for liberating the peasant
serfs, had vowed not to cut their hair until the Czar
should be killed. These were the persons who had
been called socialists. And now she could not under-
stand why it was that her son and his friends were
socialists.

When they had all departed, she asked Pavel:

" Pavlusha, are you a socialist ? "

" Yes," he said, standing before her, straight and stal-
wart as always. " Why ? "

The mother heaved a heavy sigh, and lowering her j
eyes, said:

" So, Pavlusha? Why, they are against the Czar;
they killed one."

44

MOTHER

Pavel walked up and down the room, ran his hand
across his face, and, smiling, said:

" We don't need to do that! "

He spoke to her for a long while in a low^ serious
voice. She looked into his face and thought:

" He will do nothing bad ; he is incapable of doing
bad!"

And thereafter the terrible word was repeated with
increasing frequency; its sharpness wore off, and it be-
came as familiar to her ear as scores of other words
unintelligible to her. But Sashenka did not please her,
and when she came the mother felt troubled and ill at
ease.

Once she said to the Little Russian, with an expres-
sion of dissatisfaction about the mouth:

" What a stern person this Sashenka is 1 Flings her
commands around ! — You must do this and you must do
that!"

The Little Russian laughed aloud.

" Well said, mother ! You struck the nail right on
the head! Hey, Pavel?"

And with a wink to the mother, he said with a jovial
gleam in his eyes:

" You can't drain the blue blood out of a person even
with a pump ! "

Pavel remarked dryly:

" She is a good woman ! " His face glowered.

" And that's true, too ! " the Little Russian corrobo-
rated. "Only she does not understand that she ought
to "

They started up an argument about something the
mother did not understand. The mother noticed, also,
that Sashenka was most stern with Pavel, and that some-
times she even scolded him. Pavel smiled, was silent,

45

MOTHER

and looked in the girl's face with that soft look he had
formerly given Natasha. This likewise displeased the
mother.

■ The gatherings increased in number, and began to be
held twice a week ; and when the mother observed with
what avidity the young people listened to the speeches
of her son and the Little Russian, to the interesting
stories of Sashenka, Natasha, Alexey Ivanovich, and the
other people from the city, she forgot her fears and shook
her head sadly as she recalled the days of her youth.

Sometimes they sang songs, the simple, familiar melo-
dies, aloud and merrily. But often they sang new songs,
the words and music in perfect accord, sad and quaint in
tune. These they sang in an undertone, pensively and
seriously as church hymns are chanted. Their faces grew
pale, yet hot, and a mighty force made itself felt in
their ringing words.

" It is time for us to sing these songs in the street,"
said Vyesovshchikov somberly.

And sometimes the mother was struck by the spirit
of lively, boisterous hilarity that took sudden possession
of them. It was incomprehensible to her. It usually
happened on the evenings when they read in the papers
about the working people in other countries. Then their
eyes sparkled with bold, animated joy; they became
strangely, childishly happy; the room rang with merry
peals of laughter, and they struck one another on the
shoulder affectionately.

" Capital fellows, our comrades the French ! " cried
some one, as if intoxicated with his own mirth.

" Long live our comrades, the workingmen of Italy!"
they shouted another time.

And sending these calls into the remote distance to
friends who did not know them, who could not have

46

MOTHMR

understood their language, they seemed to feel confident
that these people unknown to them heard and compre-
hended their enthusiasm and their ecstasy.

The Little Russian spoke, his eyes beaming, his love
larger than the love of the others :

" Comrades, it would be well to write to them over
there ! Let them know that they have friends living in
far-away Russia, workingmen who confess and believe
in the same religion as they, comrades who pursue the
same aims as they, and who rejoice in their victories ! "

And all, with smiles on their faces dreamily spoke at
length of the Germans, the Italians, the Englishmen, and
the Swedes, of the working people of all countries, as of
their friends, as of people near to their hearts, whom
without seeing they loved and respected, whose joys they
shared, whose pain they felt.

In the small room a vast feeling was born of the jujis,
^ersal kinship of the workers gftbp wnr|H at the same
time its masters and its slaves, who had already been
freed from the bondage of prejudice and who felt them-
selves the new masters of life. This feeling blended all
into a single soul; it moved the mother, and, although
inaccessible to her, it straightened and emboldened her,
as it were, with its force, with its joys, with its trium-
phant, youthful vigor, intoxicating, caressing, full of
hope.

" What queer people you are ! " said the mother to
the Little Russian one day. " All are your comrades —
the Armenians and the Jews and the Austrians. You
speak about all as of your friends; you grieve for all,
and you rejoice for all ! "

" For all, mother dear, for all ! The world is ours !
The world is for the workers ! For us there is no nation,
no race. For us there are only comrades and foes. All ,

47

MOTHER

the workingmen are our comrades; all the rich, all the
^authorities are our foes. When you see how numerous
we workingmen are, how tremendous the power of the
spirit in us, then your heart is seized with such joy, such
happiness, such a great holiday sings in your bosom!
And, mother, the Frenchman and the German feel the
same way when they look upon life, and the Italian also.
We are all children of one mother — ^the ^reat. invincible
idea of the brothernooTof the workers of^qVI prmntripg
"over aIl'tIf6"gSPtR7"'^i'his idea grows, it warms us like the
sun ; it IS a second sun in the heaven of justice, and this
heaven resides in the workingman's heart. Whoever he
be, whatever his name, a socialist is our brother in spirit
now and always, and through all the ages forever and
ever!"

This intoxicated and childish joy, this bright and firm
faith came over the company more and more frequently;
and it grew ever stronger, ever mightier.

And when the mother saw this, she felt that in very
truth a great dazzling light had been born into the world
like the sun in the sky and visible to her eyes.

On occasions when his father had stolen something
again and was in. prison, Nikolay would announce to
his comrades : " Now we can hold our meetings at our
house. The police will think us thieves, and they love
thieves ! "

Almost every evening after work one of Pavel's com-
rades came to his house, read with him, and copied some-
thing from the books. So greatly occupied were they
that they hardly even took the time to wash. They ate
their supper and drank tea with the books in their hands ;
and their talks became less and less intelligible to the
mother.

" We must have a newspaper ! " Pavel said frequently.
48

MOTHER

Life grew ever more hurried and feverish ; there was
a constant rushing from house to house, a passing from
one book to another, like the flirting of bees from flower
to flower.

" They are talking about us ! " said Vyesovshchikov
once. " We must get away soon."

" What's a quail for but to be caught in the snare ? "
retorted the Little Russian.

Vlasova liked the Little Russian more and more.
When he called her " mother," it was like a child's hand
patting her on the cheek. On Sunday, if Pavel had no
time, he chopped wood for her; once he came with a
board on his shoulder, and quickly and skillfully replaced
the rotten step on the porch. Another time he repaired
the tottering fence with just as little ado. He whistled
as he worked. It was a beautifully sad and wistful
whistle.

Once the mother said to the son:

" Suppose we take the Little Russian in as a boarder.
It will be better for both of you. You won't have to
run to each other so much ! "

" Why need you trouble and crowd yourself? " asked
Pavel, shrugging his shoulders.

" There you have it ! All my life I've had trouble
for I don't know what. For a good person it's worth
the while."

" Do as you please. If he comes I'll be glad."

And the Little Russian moved into their home.

49

CHAPTER V

'HE little house at the edge of the village
aroused attention. Its walls already felt
the regard of scores of suspecting eyes.
The motley wings of rumor hovered rest-
lessly above them.
People tried to surprise the secret hidden within the
house by the ravine. They peeped into the windows at
night. Now and then somebody would rap on the pane,
and quickly take to his heels in fright.

Once the tavern keeper stopped Vlasova on the street.
He was a dapper old man, who always wore a black silk
neckerchief around his red, flabby neck, and a thick,,
lilac-colored waistcoat of velvet around his body. On
his sharp, glistening nose there always sat a pair of
glasses with tortoise-shell rims, which secured him the
sobriquet of "bony eyes."

In a single breath and without awaiting an answer,
he plied Vlasova with dry, crackling words:

"How are you, Pelagueya Nilovna, how are you?
How is your son? Thinking of marrying him off, hey?
He's a youth full ripe for matrimony. The sooner a son
is married off, the safer it is for his folks. A man
with a family preserves himself better both in the spirit
and the flesh. With a family he is like mushrooms in
vinegar. If I were in your place I would marry him
off. Our times require a strict watch over the animal

SO

MOTHER

called man; people are beginning to live in their brains.
Men have run amuck with their thoughts, and they do
things that are positively criminal. The church of God
is avoided by the young folk ; they shun the public places,
and assemble in secret in out-of-the-way corners. They
speak in whispers. Why speak in whispers, pray? All
this they don't dare say before people in the tavern, for
example. What is it, I ask ? A secret ? The secret place
is our holy church, as old as the apostles. All the other
secrets hatched in the corners are the offspring of delu-
sions. I wish you good health."

Raising his hand in an affected manner, he lifted his
cap, and waving it in the air, walked away, leaving the
mother to her perplexity.

Vlasova's neighbor, Marya Korsunova, the black-
smith's widow, who sold food at the factory, on meeting
the mother in the market place also said to her:

" Look out for your son, Pelagueya ! "

"What's the matter?"

" They're talking ! " Marya tendered the informa-
tion in a hushed voice. " And they don't say any good,
mother of mine ! They speak as if he's getting up a sort
of union, something like those Flagellants — sects, that's
the name! They'll whip one another like the Flagel-
lants "

" Stop babbling nonsense, Marya ! Enough 1 "

" I'm not babbling nonsense 1 I talk because I know."

The mother communicated all these conversations to
her son. He shrugged his shoulders in silence, and the
Little Russian laughed with his thick, soft laugh.

" The girls also have a crow to pick with you ! " she
said. "You'd make enviable bridegrooms for any of
them; you're all good workers, and you don't drink —
but you don't pay any attention to them. Besides, people

SI

MOTHER

are saying that girls of questionable character come to
you."

" Well, of course ! " exclaimed Pavel, his brow con-
tracting in a frown of disgust.

" In the bog everything smells of rottenness ! " said
the Little Russian with a sigh. " Why don't you, mother,
explain to the foolish girls what it is to be married, so
that they shouldn't be in such a hurry to get their bones
broken?"

" Oh, well," said the mother, " they see the misery in
store for them, they understand, but what can they do?
They have no other choice ! "

" It's a queer way they have of understanding, else
they'd find a choice," observed Pavel.

The mother looked into his austere face.

" Why don't you teach them ? Why don't you invite
some of the cleverer ones ? "

" That won't do ! " the son replied dryly.

" Suppose we try ? " said the Little Russian.
. After a short silence Pavel said :

" Couples will be formed; couples will walk together;
then some will get married, and that's all."

The mother became thoughtful. Pavel's austerity
worried her. She saw that his advice was taken even
by his older comrades, such as the Little Russian; but
it seemed to her that all were afraid of him, and no one
loved him because he was so stern.

Once when she had lain down to sleep, and her son
and the Little Russian were still reading, she overheard
their low conversation through the thin partition.

" You know I like Natasha," suddenly ejaculated the
Little Russian in an undertone.

" I know," answered Pavel after a pause.

"Yes!"

52

MOTHER

The mother heard the Little Russian rise and begin
to walk. The tread of his bare feet sounded on the floor,
and a low, mournful whistle was heard. Then he spoke
again :

"And does she notice it?"

Pavel was silent.

" What do you think ? " the Little Russian asked, low-
ering his voice.

"She does," replied Pavel. "That's why she has
refused to attend our meetings."

The Little Russian dragged his feet heavily over the
floor, and again his low whistle quivered in the room.
Then he asked:

"And if I tell her?"

"V^Tiat?" The brief question shot from Pavel like
the discharge of a, gun.

"That I am — " began the Little Russian in a sub-
dued voice.

"Why?" Pavel interrupted.

The mother heard the Little Russian stop, and she
felt that he smiled.

" Yes, you see, I consider that if you love a girl you
must tell her about it ; else there'll be no sense to it ! "

Pavel clapped the book shut with a bang.

" And what sense do you expect ? "

Both were silent for a long while.

"Well?" asked the Little Russian.

" You must be clear in your mind, Andrey, as to what
you want to do," said Pavel slowly. " Let us assume
that she loves you, too — I do not think so, but let us
assume it. Well, you get married. An interesting union
— ^the intellectual with the workingman ! Children come
along; you will have to work all by yourself and very
hard. Your life will become the ordinary life of a strug-

53

MOTHER

gle for a piece of bread and a shelter for yourself and
children. For the cause, you will become nonexistent,
both of you ! "

Silence ensued. Then Pavel began to speak again in
a voice that sounded softer:

" You had better drop all this, Andrey. Keep quiet,
and don't worry her. That's the more honest way."

" And do you remember what Alexey Ivanovich said
about the necessity for a man to live a complete life—
with all the power of his soul and body — do you re-
member ? "

" That's not for us ! How can you attain completion?
It does not exist for you. If you love the future you
must renounce everything in the present — everything,
brother!"

" That's hard for a man ! " said the Little Russian in
a lowered voice.

" What else can be done ? Think ! "

The indifferent pendulum of the clock kept chopping
off the seconds of life, calmly and precisely. At last the
Little Russian said :

" Half the heart loves, and the other half hates ! Is
that a heart?"

" I ask you, what else can we do ? "

The pages of a book rustled. Apparently Pavel had
begun- to read again. The mother lay with closed eyes,
and was afraid to stir. She was ready to weep with
pity for the Little Russian ; but she was grieved still more
for her son.

" My 4ear son ! My consecrated one ! " she thought.

Suddenly the Little Russian asked:

" So I am to keep quiet ? "

"That's more honest, Andrey," answered Pavel
softly.

54

MOTHMR

"All right! That's the road we will travel." And
in a few seconds he added, in a sad and subdued voice:
" It will be hard for you, Pasha, when you get to that
yourself."

" It is hard for me already."

"Yes?"

" Yes."

The wind brushed along the walls of the house, and
the pendulum marked the passing time.

"Um," said the Little Russian leisurely, at last.
"That's too bad."

The mother buried her head in the pillow and wept
inaudibly.

In the morning Andrey seemed to her to be lower
in stature and all the more winning. But her son tow-
ered thin, straight, and taciturn as ever. She had always
called the Little Russian Andrey Stepanovich, in formal
address, but now, all at once, involuntarily and uncon-
sciously she said to him:

" Say, Andriusha, you had better get your boots
mended. You are apt to catch cold."

"On pay day, mother, I'll buy myself a new pair,"
he answered, smiling. Then suddenly placing his long
hand on her shoulder, he added : " You know, you are
my real mother. Only you don't want to acknowledge
it to people because I am so ugly."

She patted him on the hand without speaking. She
would have liked to say many endearing things, but her
heart was wrung with pity, and the words would not
leave her tongue.

They spoke in the village about the socialists who
distributed broadcast leaflets in blue ink. In these leaflets
the conditions prevailing in the factory were trenchantly

55

MOTHMR

and pointedly depicted, as well as the strikes in St. Peters-
burg and southern Russia; and the workingmen were
called upon to unite and fight for their interests.
y^ The staid people who earned good pay waxed wroth
as they read the literature, and said abusively : " Breeders
of rebellion ! For such business they ought to get their
eyes blacked." And they carried the pamphlets to the
office.

The young people read the proclamations eagerly, and
said excitedly : " It's all true ! "

The majority, broken down with their work, and in-
different to everything, said lazily : " Nothing will come
Spf it. It is impossible ! "

But the leaflets made a stir among the people, and
when a week passed without their getting any, they said
to one another:

" None again to-day ! It seems the printing must
have stopped."

Then on Monday the leaflets appeared again; and
again there was a dull buzz of talk among the work-
ingmen.

In the taverns and the factory strangers were noticed,
men whom no one knew. They asked questions, scru-
tinized everything and everybody; looked around, fer-
reted about, and at once attracted universal attention,
some by their suspicious watchfulness, others by their
excessive obtrusiveness.

The mother knew that all this commotion was due to
the work of her son Pavel. She saw how all the people
were drawn together about him. He was not alone, and
therefore it was not so dangerous. But pride in her son
mingled with her apprehension for his fate ; it was his
secret labors that discharged themselves in fresh cur-
rents into the narrow, turbid stream of life

56

MOTHER

One evening Marya Korsunova rapped at the window
from the street, and when the mother opened it, she said
in a loud whisper :

" Now, take care, Pelagueya ; the boys have gotten
themselves into a nice mess! It's been decided to make
a search to-night in your house, and Mazin's and Vye-
sovshchikov's "

The mother heard only the beginning of the woman's
talk; all the rest of the words flowed together in one
stream of ill-boding, hoarse sounds.

Marya's thick lips flapped hastily one against the
other. Snorts issued from her fleshy nose, her eyes
blinked and turned from side to side as if on the lookout
for somebody in the street.

" And, mark you, I do not know anything, and I did
not say anything to you, mother dear, and did not even
see you to-day, you understand?"

Then she disappeared.

The mother closed the window and slowly dropped
on a chair, her strength gone from her, her brain a
desolate void. But the consciousness of the danger
threatening her son quickly brought her to her feet again.
She dressed hastily, for some reason wrapped her shawl
tightly around her head, and ran to Fedya Mazin, who,
she knew, was sick and not working. She found him
sitting at the window reading a book, and moving his
right hand to and fro with his left, his thumb spread out.
On learning the news he jumped up nervously, his lips
trembled, and his face paled.

"There you are! And I have an abscess on my
finger ! " he mumbled.

"What are we to do?" asked Vlasova, wiping the
perspiration from her face with a hand that trembled
nervously.

57

MOTHER

"Wait a while! Don't be afraid," answered Fedya,
running his sound hand through his curly hair.

" But you are afraid yourself ! "

"I?" He reddened and smiled in embarrassment.
"Yes — ^h-m — I had a lit of cowardice, the devil take
it! We must let Pavel know. I'll send my little sister
to him. You go home. Never mind! They're not
going to beat us."

On returning home she gathered together all the
books, and pressing them to her bosom walked about
the house for a long time, looking into the oven, under
the oven, into the pipe of the samovar, and even into the
water vat. She thought Pavel would at once drop work
and come home; but he did not come. Finally she sat
down exhausted on the bench in the kitchen, putting the
books under her ; and she remained in that position, afraid
to rise, until Pavel and the Little Russian returned from
the factory.

" Do you know ? " she exclaimed without rising.

" We know ! " said Pavel with a composed smile.
"Are you afraid?"

" Oh, I'm so afraid, so afraid ! "

" You needn't be afraid," said the Little Russian.
" That won't help anybody."

" Didn't even prepare the samovar," remarked Pavel.

The mother rose, and pointed to the books with a
guilty air.

" You see, it was on account of them — ^all the time—
I was "

The son and the Little Russian burst into laughter;
and this relieved her. Then Pavel picked out some books
and carried them out into the yard to hide them, while
the Little Russian remained to prepare the samovar.

" There's nothing terrible at all in this, mother. It's
58

MOTHER

only a shame for people to occupy themselves with such
nonsense. Grown-up men in gray come in with sabers
at their sides, with spurs on their feet, and rummage
around, and dig up and search everything. They look
under the bed, and climb up to the garret ; if there is a
cellar they crawl down into it. The cobwebs get on
their faces, and they puff and snort. They are bored
and ashamed. That's why they put on the appearance of
being very wicked and very mad with us. It's dirty work,
and they understand it, of course they do! Once they
turned everything topsy-turvy in my place, and went
away abashed, that's all. Another time they took me
along with them. Well, they put me in prison, and I
stayed there with them for about four months. You
sit and sit, then you're called out, taken to the street
under an escort of soldiers, and you're asked certain
questions. They're stupid people, they talk such inco-
herent stuff. When they're done with you, they tell the
soldiers to take you back to prison. So they lead you
here, and they lead you there — they've got to justify
their salaries somehow. And then they let you go free.
That's all."

" How you always do speak, Andriusha ! " exclaimed
the mother involuntarily.

Kneeling before the samovar he diligently blew into
the pipe; but presently he turned his face, red with ex-
ertion, toward her, and smoothing his mustache with both
hands inquired:

" And how do I speak, pray ? "
"As if nobody had ever done you any wrong.'
He rose, approached her, and shaking his head, said :
" Is there an unwronged soul anywhere in the wide
world? But I have been wronged so much that I have
ceased to feel wronged. What's to be done if people
5 59

MOTHER

cannot help acting as they do? The wrongs I undergo
hinder me greatly in my work. It is impossible to avoid
them. But to stop and pay attention to them is useless
waste of time. Such a life! Formerly I would occa-
sionally get angry — but I thought to myself: all around
me I see people broken in heart. It seemed as if each
one were afraid that his neighbor would strike him, and
so he tried to get ahead and strike the other first. Such
a life it is, mother dear."

His speech fiowe4 on serenely. He resolutely dis-
tracted her mind from alarm at the expected police
search. His luminous, protuberant eyes smiled sadly.
Though ungainly, he seemed made of stuff that bends
but never breaks.

The mother sighed and uttered the warm wish :
" May God grant you happiness, Andriusha ! "
The Little Russian stalked to the samovar with long
strides, sat in front of it again on his heels, and mum-
bled:

" If he gives me happiness, I will not decline it; ask
for it I won't, to seek it I have no time."
And he began to whistle.

Pavel came in from the yard and said confidently:
" They won't find them 1 " He started to wash him-
self. Then carefully rubbing his hands dry, he added:
" If you show them, mother, that you are frightened,
they will think there must be something in this house
because you tremble. And we have done nothing as yet,
nothing! You know that we don't want anything bad;
on our side is truth, and we will work for it all our
lives. This is our entire guilt. Why, then, need we
fear?"

" I will pull myself together. Pasha ! " she assured
him. And the next moment, unable to repress her anx-

60

MOTHMR

iety, she exclaimed : " I wish they'd come soon, and it
would all be over ! "

But they did not come that night, and in the morn-
ing, in anticipation of the fun that would probably be
poked at her for her alarm, the mother began to joke
at herself.

6l

CHAPTER VI

The searchers appeared at the very time they
were not expected, nearly a month after this
anxious nighti Nikolay Vyesovshchikov
was at Pavel's house talking with him and
Andrey about their newspaper. It was
late, about midnight. The mother was already in bed.
Half awake, half asleep, she listened to the low, busy
voices. Presently Andrey got up and carefully picked
his way through and out of the kitchen, quietly shutting
the door after him. The noise of the iron bucket was
heard on the porch. Suddenly the door was flung wide
open; the Little Russian entered the kitchen, and an-
nounced in a loud whisper:

" I hear the jingling of spurs in the street! "
The mother jumped out of bed, catching at her dress
with a trembling hand ; but Pavel came to the door and
said calmly:

" You stay in bed ; you're not feeling well."
A cautious, stealthy sound was heard on the porch.
Pavel went to the door and knocking at it with his hand
asked :

"Who's there?"

A tall, gray figure tumultuously precipitated itself
through the doorway; after it another; two gendarmes
pushed Pavel back, and stationed themselves on either
side of him, and a loud mocking voice called out:
" No one you expect, eh? "
62

MOTHER

The words came from a tall, lank officer, with a thin,
black mustache. The village policeman, Fedyakin, ap-
peared at the bedside of the mother, and, raising one
hand to his cap, pointed the other at her face and, making
terrible eyes, said:

" This is his mother, your honor ! " Then, waving
his hand toward Pavel: " And this is he himself."

" Pavel Vlasov ? " inquired the officer, screwing up
his eyes; and when Pavel silently nodded his head, he
announced, twirling his mustache :

" I have to make a search in your house. Get up,
old woman ! "

" Who is there ? " he asked, turning suddenly and
making a dash for the door.

" Your name ? " His voice was heard from the other
room.

Two other men came in from the porch: the old
smelter Tveryakov and his lodger, the stoker Rybin, a
staid, dark-colored peasant. He said in a thick, loud
voice :

" Good evening, Nilovna."

She dressed herself, all the while speaking to herself
in a low voice, so as to give herself courage :

" What sort of a thing is this ? They come at night.
People are asleep and they come "

The room was close, and for some reason smelled
strongly of shoe blacking. Two gendarmes and the vil-
lage police commissioner, Ryskin, their heavy tread re-
sounding on the floor, removed the books from the shelves
and put them on the table before the officer. Two others
rapped on the walls with their fists, and looked under
the chairs. One man clumsily clambered up on the stove
in the corner. Nikolay's pockmarked face became cov-
ered with red patches, and his little gray eyes were

63

MOTHER

steadfastly fixed upon the officer. The Little Russian
curled his mustache, and when the mother entered the
room, he smiled and gave her an afifectionate nod of the
head.

Striving to suppress her fear, she walked, not side-
ways as always, but erect, her chest thrown out, which
gave her figure a droll, stilted air of importance. Her
shoes made a knocking sound on the floor, and her brows
trembled.

The officer quickly seized the books with the long
fingers of his white hand, turned over the pages, shook
them, and with a dexterous movement of the wrist flung
them aside. Sometimes a book fell to the floor with a
light thud. All were silent. The heavy breathing of
the perspiring gendarmes was audible ; the spurs clanked,
and sometimes the low question was heard : " Did you
look here ? "

The mother stood by Pavel's side against the wall.
She folded her arms over her bosom, like her son, and
both regarded the officer. The mother felt her knees
trembling, and her eyes became covered with a dry mist.

Suddenly the piercing voice of Nikolay cut into the
silence : ^

" Why is it necessary to throw the books on the
floor?"

The mother trembled. Tveryakov rocked his head
as if he had been struck on the back. Rybin uttered
a peculiar cluck, and regarded Nikolay attentively.

The officer threw up his head, screwed up his eyes,
and fixed them for a second upon the pockmarked, mot-
tled, immobile face. His fingers, began to turn the leaves
of the books still more rapidly. His face was yellow and
pale ; he twisted his lips continually. At times he opened
his large gray eyes wide, as if he suffered from an in-

64

MOTHER

tolerable pain, and was ready to scream out in impotent
anguish.

" Soldier ! " Vyesovshchikov called out again. " Pick
the books up ! "

All the gendarmes turned their eyes on him, then
looked at the officer. He again raised his head, and
taking in the broad figure of Nikolay with a searching
stare, he drawled:

" Well, well, pick up the books."

One gendarme bent down, and, looking slantwise at
Vyesovshchikov, began to collect the books scattered on
the floor.

" Why doesn't Nikolay keep quiet? " the mother whis-
pered to Pavel. He shrugged his shoulders. The Little
Russian drooped his head.

"What's the whispering there? Silence, please!
Who reads the Bible?"

"I!" said Pavel.

" Aha ! And whose books are all these ? "

" Mine ! " answered Pavel.

" So ! " exclaimed the officer, throwing himself on the
back of the chair. He made the bones of his slender
hand crack, stretched his legs under the table, and ad-
justing his mustache, asked Nikolay : " Are you Audrey
Nakhodka?"

" Yes ! " answered Nikolay, moving forward. The
Little Russian put out his hand, took him by the shoul-
der, and pulled him back.

" He made a mistake ; I am Andrey ! "

The officer raised his hand, and threatening Vyesovsh-
chikov with his little finger, said :

"Take care!"

He began to search among his papers. From the
street the bright, moonlit night looked on through the

65

MOTHBR

window with soulless eyes. Some one was loafing about
outside the window, and the snow crunched under his
tread.

" You, Nakhodka, you have been searched for polit-
ical offenses before ? " asked the officer.

" Yes, I was searched in Rostov and Saratov. Only
there the gendarmes addressed me as ' Mr.' "

The officer winked his right eye, rubbed it, and show-
ing his fine teeth, said :

" And do you happen to know, Mr. Nakhodka — ^yes,
you, Mr. Nakhodka — who those scoundrels are who dis-
tribute criminal proclamations and books in the factory,
eh?"

The Little Russian swayed his body, and with a broad
smile on his face was about to say something, when the
irritating voice of Nikolay again rang out:

" This is the first time we have seen scoundrels here ! "

Silence ensued. There was a moment of breathless
suspense. The scar on the mother's face whitened, and
her right eyebrow traveled upward. Rybin's black beard
quivered strangely. He dropped his eyes, and slowly
scratched one hand with the other.

" Take this dog out of here ! " said the officer.

Two gendarmes seized Nikolay under the arm and
rudely pulled him into the kitchen. There he planted
his feet firmly on the floor and shouted:

" Stop ! I am going to put my coat on."

The police commissioner came in from the yard and
said:

" There is nothing out there. We searched every-
where ! "

" Well, of course I " exclaimed the officer, laughing.
" I knew it ! There's an experienced man here, it goes
without saying."

66

MOTHMR

The mother listened to his thin, dry voice, and look-
ing with terror into the yellow face, felt an enemy in this
man, an enemy without pity, with a heart full of aristo-
cratic disdain of the people. Formerly she had but rarely
seen such persons, and now she had almost forgotten
they existed.

" Then this is the man whom Pavel and his friends
have provoked," she thought.

" I place you, Mr. Aridrey Onisimbv Nakhodka, un-
der arrest."

" What for ? " asked the Little Russian composedly.

" I will tell you later ! " answered the officer with
spiteful civility, and turning to Vlasova, he shouted:

" Say, can you read or write ? "

" No ! " answered Pavel.

" I didn't ask you ! " said the officer sternly, and re-
peated : " Say, old woman, can you read or write ? "

The mother involuntarily gave way to a feeling of
hatred for the man. She was seized with a sudden fit
of trembling, as if she had jumped into cold water. She
straightened herself, her scar turned purple, and her brow
drooped low.

" Don't shout ! " she said, flinging out her hand
toward him. " You are a young man still ; you don't
know misery or sorrow "

" Calm yourself, mother ! " Pavel intervened.

" In this business, mother, you've got to take your
heart between your teeth and hold it there tight," said
the Little Russian.

" Wait a moment. Pasha ! " cried the mother, rushing
to the table and then addressing the officer : " Why do
you snatch people away thus ? " <

" That does not concern you. Silence ! " shouted the
officer, rising.

67

MOTHER

" Bring in the prisoner Vyesovshchikov ! " he com-
manded, and began to read aloud a document which he
raised to his face.

Nikolay was brought into the room.

" Hats off ! " shouted the officer, interrupting his
reading.

Rybin went up to Vlasova, and patting her on the
back, said in an undertone :

" Don't get excited, mother ! "

" How can I take my hat off if they hold my hands ? "
asked Nikolay, drowning the reading.

The officer flung the paper on the table.

" Sign ! " he said curtly.

The mother saw how everyone signed the document,
and her excitement died down, a softer feeling taking
possession of her heart. Her eyes filled with tears —
burning tears of insult and impotence — such tears she
had wept for twenty years of her married life, but lately
she had almost forgotten their acid, heart-corroding taste.

The officer regarded her contemptuously. He scowled
and remarked:

" You bawl ahead of time, my lady ! Look out, or
you won't have tears left for the future ! "

" A mother has enough tears for everything, every-
thing ! If you have a mother, she knows it ! "

The officer hastily put the papers into his new port-
folio with its shining lock.

" How independent they all are in your place ! " He
turned to the police commissioner.

" An impudent pack ! " mumbled the commissioner.

" March ! " commanded the officer.

" Good-by, Andrey ! Good-by, Nikolay ! " said Pavel
warmly and softly, pressing his comrades' hands.

" That's it ! Until we meet again ! " the officer scoffed.
68

MOTHMR

Vyesovshchikov silently pressed Pavel's hands with his
short fingers and breathed heavily. The blood mounted
to his thick neck ; his eyes flashed with rancor. The Little
Russian's face beamed with a sunny smile. He nodded
his head, and said something to the mother ; she made the
sign of the cross over him.

" God sees the righteous," she murmured.

At length the throng of people in the gray coats tum-
bled out on the porch, and their spurs jingled as they
disappeared. Rybin went last. He regarded Pavel with
an attentive look of his dark eyes and said thoughtfully :
" Well, well — ^good-by ! " and coughing in his beard he
leisurely walked out on the porch.

Folding his hands behind his back, Pavel slowly paced
up and down the room, stepping over the books and
clothes tumbled about on the floor. At last he said som-
berly :

" You see how it's done ! With insult — disgustingly
— ^yes ! They left me behind."

Looking perplexedly at the disorder in the room, the
mother whispered sadly:

" They will take you, too, be sure they will. Why
did Nikolay speak to them the way he did ? "

" He got frightened, I suppose," said Pavel quietly.
" Yes — It's impossible to speak to them, absolutely im-
possible ! They cannot understand ! "

" They came, snatched, and carried off ! " mumbled
the mother, waving her hands. As her son remained at
home, her heart began to beat more lightly. Her mind
stubbornly halted before one fact and refused to be
moved. " How he scoffs at us, that yellow ruffian ! How
he threatens us ! "

" All right, mamma ! " Pavel suddenly said with reso-
lution. " Let us pick all this up ! "

69

MOTHER

He called her " manama," the word he used only when
he came nearer to her. She approached him, looked into
his face, and asked softly:

"Did they insult you?"

"Yes," he answered. " That's— hard I I would
rather have gone with them."

It seemed to her that she saw tears in his eyes, and
wishing to soothe him, with an indistinct sense of his
pain, she said with a sigh:

" Wait a while— they'll take you, too ! "

" They will ! " he replied.

After a pause the mother remarked sorrowfully :

" How hard you are. Pasha ! If you'd only reassure
me once in a while ! But you don't. When I say some-
thing horrible, you say something worse."

He looked at her, moved closer to her, and said gently :

" I cannot, mamma ! I cannot lie ! You have to get
used to it."

70

CHAPTER VII

I'HE next day they knew that Bukin, Samoy-
lov, Somov, and five more had been arrested.
In the evening Fedya Mazin came running
in upon them. A search had been made in
his house also. He felt himself a hero.
" Were you afraid, IJpdya ? " asked the mother.
He turned pale, his face sharpened, and his nostrils
quivered.

" I was afraid the officer might strike me. He has
a black beard, he's stout, his fingers are hairy, and he
wears dark glasses, so that he looks as if he were without
eyes. He shouted and stamped his feet. He said I'd
rot in prison. And I've never been beaten either by my
father or mother; they love me because I'm their only
son. Everyone gets beaten everywhere, but I never ! "

He closed his eyes for a moment, compressed his lips,
tossed his hair back with a quick gesture of both hands,
and looking at Pavel with reddening eyes, said:

" If anybody ever strikes me, I will thrust my whole
body into him like a knife — I will bite my teeth into him
— I'd rather he'd kill me at once and be done 1 "

" To defend yourself is your right," said Pavel. " But
take care not to attack ! "

" You are delicate and thin," observed the mother.
" What do you want with fighting? "

" I will fight ! " answered Fedya in a low voice.
71

MOTHER

When he left, the mother said to Pavel:

" This young man will go down sooner than all the
rest."

Pavel was silent.

A few minutes later the kitchen door opened slowly
and Rybin entered.

" Good evening ! " he said, smiling. " Here I am
again. Yesterday they brought me here; to-day I come
of my own accord. Yes, yes ! " He gave Pavel a vigor-
ous handshake, then put his hand on the mother's shoul-
der, and asked: "Will you give me tea?"

Pavel silently regarded his swarthy, broad counte-
nance, his thick, black beard, and dark, intelligent eyes.
A certain gravity spoke out of their calm gaze; his stal-
wart figure inspired confidence.

The mother went into the kitchen to prepare the
samovar. Rybin sat down, stroked his beard, and plac-
ing his elbows on the table, scanned Pavel with his dark
look.

" That's the way it is," he said, as if continuing an
interrupted conversation. " I must have a frank talk with
you. I observed you long before I came. We live al-
most next door to each other. I see many people come
to you, and no drunkenness, no carrying on. That's the
main thing. If people don't raise the devil, they imme-
diately attract attention. What's that? There you are!
That's why all eyes are on me, because I live apart and
give no offense."

His speech flowed along evenly and freely. It had
a ring that won him confidence.

" So. Everybody prates about you. My masters call
you a heretic; you don't go to church. I don't, either.
Then the papers appeared, those leaflets. Was it you
that thought them out? "

72

MOTHMR

" Yes, I ! " answered Pavel, without taking his eyes
off Rybin's face. Rybin also looked steadily into Pavel's
eyes.

" You alone ! " exclaimed the mother, coming into the
room. " It wasn't you alone."

Pavel smiled ; Rybin also.

The mother sniffed, and walked away, somewhat of-
fended because they did not pay attention to her words.

" Those leaflets are well thought out. They stir the
people up. There were twelve of them, weren't there ? "

" Yes."

" I have read them all ! Yes, yes. Sometimes they
are not clear, and some things are superfluous. But
when a man speaks a great deal, it's natural he should
occasionally say things out of the way."

Rybin smiled. His teeth were white and strong.

"Then the search. That won me over to you more
than anything else. You and the Little Russian and
Nikolay, you all got caught ! " He paused for the right
word and looked at the window, rapping the table with
his fingers. " They discovered your resolve. You attend
to your business, your honor, you say, and we'll attend
to ours. The Little Russian's a fine fellow, too. The
other day I heard how he speaks in the factory, and
thinks I to myself: that man isn't going to be van-
quished ; it's only one thing will knock him out, and that's
death 1 A sturdy chap ! Do you trust me, Pavel ? "

" Yes, I trust you ! " said Pavel, nodding.

" That's right. Look ! I am forty years old ; I am
twice as old as you, and I've seen twenty times as much
as you. For three years long I wore my feet to the
bone marching in the army. I have been married twice.
I've been in the Caucasus, I know the Dukhobors,
They're not masters of life, no, they aren't ! "

73

MOTHER

The mother listened eagerly to his direct speech.
It pleased her to have an older man come to her son
and speak to him just as if he were confessing to him.
But Pavel seemed to treat the guest too curtly, and
the mother, to introduce a softer element, asked
Rybin :

" Maybe you'll have something to eat."

"Thank you, mother! I've had my supper already.
So then, Pavel, you think that life does not go as it
should?"

Pavel arose and began to pace the room, folding
his hands behind his back.

" It goes all right," he said. " Just now, for instance,
it has brought you here to me with an open heart. We
who work our whole life long — it unites us gradually
and more and more every day. The time will come when
we shall all be united. Life is arranged unjustly for us
and is made a burden. At the same time, however, life
itself is opening our eyes to its bitter meaning and is
itself showing man the way to accelerate its pace. We
all of us think just as we live."

"True. But wait!" Rybin stopped him. "Man
ought to be renovated — ^that's what I think! When a
man grows scabby, take him to the bath, give him a thor-
ough cleaning, put clean clothes on him — and he will
get well. Isn't it so? And if the heart grows scabby,
take its skin off, even if it bleeds, wash it, and dress it
up all afresh. Isn't it so? How else can you clean the
inner man ? There now ! "

Pavel began to speak hotly and bitterly about God,
about the Czar, about the government authorities, about
the factory, and how in foreign countries the working-
men stand up for their rights. Rybin smiled occasion-
ally; sometimes he struck a finger on the table as if

74

MOTHER

punctuating a period. Now and then he cried out briefly :
" So ! " And once, laughing out, he said quietly : " You're
young. You know people but little ! "

Pavel stopping before him said seriously:

" Let's not talk of being old or being young. Let us
rather see whose thoughts are truer."

" That is, according to you, we've been fooled about
God also. So! I, too, think that our religion is false
and injurious to us."

Here the mother intervened. When her son spoke
about God and about everything that she connected with
her faith in him, which was dear and sacred to her, she
sought to meet his eyes, she wanted to ask her son mutely
not to chafe her heart with the sharp, bitter words of his
unbelief. And she felt that Rybin, an older man, would
also be displeased and offended. But when Rybin calmly
put his question to Pavel, she could no longer contain
herself, and said firmly : " When you speak of God, I
wish you were more careful. You can do whatever you
like. You have your compensation in your work."
Catching her breath she continued with still greater vehe-
mence : " But I, an old woman, I will have nothing to
lean upon in my distress if you take my God away from

•via "

me.

Her eyes filled with tears. She was washing the
dishes, and her fingers trembled.

" You did not understand us, mother ! " Pavel said
softly and kindly.

" Beg your pardon, mother ! " Rybin added in a slow,
thick voice. He looked at Pavel and smiled. " I forgot
that you're too old to cut out your warts."

" I did not speak," continued Pavel, " about that good
and gracious God in whom you believe, but about the
God with whom the priests threaten us as with a stick,
6 75

MOTHER

about the God in whose name they want to force all
of us to the evil will of the few."

" That's it, right you are ! " exclaimed Rybin, striking
his fingers upon the table. " They have mutilated even
our God for us, they have turned everything in their
hands against us. Mark you, mother, God created man
in his own image and after his own likeness. Therefore
he is like man if man is like him. But we have become,
not like God, but like wild beasts ! In the churches they
set up a scarecrow before us. We have got to change our
God, mother ; we must cleanse him ! They have dressed
him up in falsehood and calumny; they have distorted
his face in order to destroy our souls ! "

He talked composedly and very distinctly and intel-
ligibly. Every word of his speech fell upon the mother's
ears like a blow. And his face set in the frame of his
black beard, his broad face attired, as it were, in mourn-
ing, frightened her. The dark gleam of his eyes was
insupportable to her. He aroused in her a sense of an-
guish, and filled her heart with terror.

" No, I'd better go away," she said, shaking her head
in negation. " It's not in my power to listen to this.
I cannot ! "

And she quickly walked into the kitchen followed by
the words of Rybin:

" There you have it, Pavel ! It begins not in the head,
but in the heart. The heart is such a place that nothing
else will grow in it."

" Only reason," said Pavel firmly, " only reason will
free mankind."

" Reason does not give strength ! " retorted Rybin
emphatically. " The heart gives strength, and not the
head, I tell you."

The mother undressed and lay down in bed without
76

MOTHER

saying her prayer. She felt cold and miserable. And
Rybin, who at first seemed such a staid, wise man, now
aroused in her a blind hostility.

" Heretic ! Sedition-maker ! " she thought, listening
to his even voice flowing resonantly from his deep chest.
He, too, had come — ^he was indispensable.

He spoke confidently and composedly:

" The holy place must not be empty. The spot where
God dwells is a place of pain ; and if he drops out from
the heart, there will be a wound in it, mark my word !
It is necessary, Pavel, to invent a new faith ; it is neces-
sary to create a God for all. Not a judge, not a warrior,
but a God who shall be the friend of the people."

" You had one ! There was Christ ! "

"Wait a moment! Christ was not strong in spirit.
' Let the cup pass from me,' he said. And he recognized
Caesar. God cannot recognize human powers. He him-
self is the whole of power. He does not divide his soul
saying: so much for the godly, so much for the human.
If Christ came to affirm the divine he had no need for
anything human. But he recognized trade, and he rec-
ognized marriage. And it was unjust of him to condemn
the fig tree. Was it of its own will that it was barren
of fruit? Neither is the soul barren of good of its own
accord. Have I sown the evil in it myself? Of course
not!"

The two voices hummed continuously in the room,
as if clutching at each other and wrestling in exciting
play. Pavel walked hurriedly up and down the room;
the floor cracked under his feet. When he spoke all
other sounds were drowned by his voice; but above the
slow, calm flow of Rybin's dull utterance were heard the
strokes of the pendulum and the low creaking of the
frost, as of sharp claws scratching the walls of the house.

77

MOTHSR

" I will speak to you in my own way, in the words
of a stoker. God is like fire. He does not strengthen
anything. He cannot. He merely burns and fuses when
he gives light. He burns down churches, he does not
raise them. He lives in the heart."

" And in the mind ! " insisted Pavel.

" That's it ! In the heart and in the mind. There's
the rub. It's this that makes all the trouble and misery
and misfortune. We have severed ourselves from our
own selves. The heart was severed from the mind, and
the mind has disappeared. Man is not a unit. It is God
that makes him a unit, that makes him a round, circular
thing. God always makes things round. Such is the
earth and all the stars and everything visible to the eye.
The sharp, angular things are the work of men."

The mother fell asleep and did not hear Rybin depart.

But he began to come often, and if any of Pavel's
comrades were present, Rybin sat in a corner and was
silent, only occasionally interjecting: "That's sol"

And once looking at everybody from his corner with
his dark glance he said somberly :

" We must speak about that which is ; that which will
be is unknown to us. When the people have freed them-
selves, they will see for themselves what is best. Enough,
quite enough of what they do not want at all has been
knocked into their heads. Let there be an end of this !
■ Let them contrive for themselves. Maybe they will want
to reject everything, all life, and all knowledge; maybe
they will see that everything is arranged against them.
You just deliver all the books into their hands, and they
will find an answer for themselves, depend upon it!
Only let them remember that the tighter the collar round
the horse's neck, the worse the work."

But when Pavel was alone with Rybin they at once
78

MOTHMR

began an endless but always calm disputation, to which
the mother listened anxiously, following their words in
silence, and endeavoring to understand. Sometimes it
seemed to her as if the broad-shouldered, black-bearded
peasant and her well-built, sturdy son had both gone
blind. In that little room, in the darkness, they seemed
to be knocking about from side to side in search of
light and an outlet, to be grasping out with powerful
but blind hands ; they seemed to fall upon the floor, and
having fallen, to scrape and fumble with their feet. They
hit against everything, groped about for everything, and
flung it away, calm and composed, losing neither faith
nor hope.

They got her accustomed to listen to a great many
words, terrible in their directness and boldness ; and these
words had now ceased to weigh down on her so heavily
as at first. She learned to push them away from her
ears. And although Rybin still displeased her as before,
he no longer inspired her with hostility.

Once a week she carried underwear and books to the
Little Russian in prison. On one occasion they allowed
her to see him and talk to him ; and on returning home
she related enthusiastically:

" He is as if he were at home there, too ! He is
good and kind to everybody ; everybody jokes with him ;
just as if there were a holiday in his heart all the time.
His lot is hard and heavy, but he does not want to
show it."

" That's right ! That's the way one should act," ob-
served Rybin. " We are all enveloped in misery as in
our skins. We breathe misery, we wear misery. But
that's nothing to brag about. Not all people are blind ;
some close their eyes of their own accord, indeed ! And
if you are stupid you have to suffer for it."

79

CHAPTER VIII

'HE little old gray house of the Vlasovs at-
tracted the attention of the village more
and more; and although there was much
suspicious chariness and unconscious hos-
tility in this notice, yet at the same time
a confiding curiosity grew up also. Now and then some
one would come over, and looking carefully about him
would say to Pavel: "Well, brother, you are reading
books here, and you know the laws. Explain to me,

then "

And he would tell Pavel about some injustice of the
police or the factory administration. In complicated cases
Pavel woufd give the man a note to a lawyer friend in
the city, and when he could, he would explain the case
himself.

Gradually people began to look with respect upon this
young, serious man, who spoke about everything simply
and boldly, and almost never laughed, who looked at
everybody and listened to everybody with an attention
which searched stubbornly into every circumstance, and
always found a certain general and endless thread bind-
ing people together by a thousand tightly drawn knots.
Vlasova saw how her son had grown up; she strove
to understand his work, and when she succeeded, she re-
joiced with a childlike joy.

Pavel rose particularly in the esteem of the people
80

MOTHSR

after the appearance of his story about the " Muddy
Penny."

Back of the factory, almost encircling it with a ring
of putrescence, stretched a vast marsh grown over with
fir trees and birches. In the summer it was covered
with thick yellow and green scum, and swarms of mos-
quitoes flew from it over the village, spreading fever in
their course. The marsh belonged to the factory, and
the new manager, wishing to extract profit from it, con-
ceived the plan of draining it and incidentally gathering
in a fine harvest of peat. Representing to the working-
men how much this measure would contribute to the
sanitation of the locality and the improvement of the
general condition of all, the manager gave orders to de-
duct a kopeck from every ruble of their earnings, in
•order to cover the expense of draining the marsh. The
workingmen rebelled; they especially resented the fact
that the office clerks were exempted from paying the
new tax.

Pavel was ill on the Saturday when posters were
hung up announcing the manager's order in regard to
the toll. He had not gone to work and he knew nothing
about it. The next day, after mass, a dapper old man,
the smelter Sizov, and the tall, vicious-looking locksmith
Makhotin, came to him and told him of the manager's
decision.

" A few of us older ones got together," said Sizov,
speaking sedately, " talked the matter over, and our com-
rades, you see, sent us over to you, as you are a knowing
man among us. Is there such a law as gives our manager
the right to make war upon mosquitoes with our ko-
pecks ? "

" Think ! " said Makhotin, with a glimmer in his nar-
row eyes. " Three years ago these sharpers collected a

8i

MOTHER

tax to build a bath house. Three thousand eight hundred
rubles is what they gathered in. Where are those rubles?
And where is the bath house ? "

Pavel explained the injustice of the tax, and the ob-
vious advantage of such a procedure to the factory own-
ers ; and both of his visitors went away in a surly mood.

The mother, who had gone with them to the door,
said, laughing:

" Now, Pasha, the old people have also begun to come
to seek wisdom 'from you."

Without replying, Pavel sat down at the table with
a busy air and began to write. In a few minutes he said
to her : " Please go to the city immediately and deliver
this note."

" Is it dangerous ? " she asked.

" Yes ! A newspaper is being published for us down
there ! That ' Muddy Penny ' story must go into the
next issue."

" I'll go at once," she replied, beginning hurriedly to
put on her wraps.

This was the first commission her son had given her.
She was happy that he spoke to her so openly about
the matter, and that she might be useful to him in his
work.

" I understand all about it. Pasha," she said. " It's
a piece of robbery. What's the name of the man ? Yegor
Ivanovich ? "

" Yes," said Pavel, smiling kindly.

She returned late in the evening, exhausted but con-
tented.

" I saw Sashenka," she told her son. " She sends
you her regards. And this Yegor Ivanovich is such a
simple fellow, such a joker! He speaks so comically."

" I'm glad you like them," said Pavel softly.
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MOTHMR

" They are simple people, Pasha. It's good when
people are simple. And they all respect you."

Again, Monday, Pavel did not go to work. His head
ached. But at dinner time Fedya Mazin came running
in, excited, out of breath, happy, and tired.

" Come ! The whole factory has arisen ! They've
sent for you. Sizov and Makhotin say you can explain
better than anybody else. My ! What a hullabaloo ! "

Pavel began to dress himself silently.

"A crowd of women are gathered there; they are
screaming ! "

"I'll go, too," declared the mother. "You're not
well, and — what are they doing? I'm going, too."

"Come," Pavel said briefly.

They walked along the street quickly and silently.
The mother panted with the exertion of the rapid gait
and her excitement. She felt that something big was
happening. At the factory gates a throng of women
were discussing the affair in shrill voices. When the
three pushed into the yard, they found themselves in the
thick of a crowd buzzing and humming in excitement.
The mother saw that all heads were turned in the same
direction, toward the blacksmith's wall, where Sizov,
Makhotin, Vyalov, and five or six influential, solid work-
ingmen were standing on a high pile of old iron heaped
on the red brick paving of the court, and waving their
hands.

" Vlasov is coming ! " somebody shouted.

" Vlasov ? Bring him along ! "

Pavel was seized and pushed forward, and the mother
was left alone.

" Silence ! " came the shout from various directions.
Near by the even voice of Rybin was heard :

" We must make a stand, not for the kopeck, but for
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MOTHMR

justice. What is dear to us is not our kopeck, because
it's no rounder than any other kopeck; it's only heavier;
there's more human blood in it than in the manager's
ruble. That's the truth ! "

The words fell forcibly on the crowd and stirred the
men to hot responses :

"That's right! Good, Rybin!"

" Silence ! The devil take you ! "

" Vlasov's come ! "

The voices mingled in a confused uproar, drowning
the ponderous whir of the machinery, the sharp snorts
of the steam, and the flapping of the leather belts. From
all sides people came running, waving their hands; they
fell into arguments, and excited one another with burn-
ing, stinging words. The irritation that had found no
vent, that had always lain dormant in tired breasts, had
awakened, demanded an outlet, and burst from their
mouths in a volley of words. It soared into the air like
a great bird spreading its motley wings ever wider and
wider, clutching people and dragging them after it, and
striking them against one another. It lived anew, trans-
formed into flaming wrath. A cloud of dust and soot
hung over the crowd ; their faces were all afire, and black
drops of sweat trickled down their cheeks. Their eyes
gleamed from darkened countenances; their teeth glis-
tened.

Pavel appeared on the spot where Sizov and Makhotin
were standing, and his voice rang out :

" Comrades ! "

The mother saw that his face paled and his lips trem-
bled ; she involuntarily pushed forward, shoving her way
through the crowd.

"Where are you going, old woman?"

She heard the angry question, and the people pushed
84

MOTHMR

her, but she would not stop, thrusting the crowd aside
with her shoulders and elbows. She slowly forced her
way nearer to her son, yielding to the desire to stand
by his side. When Pavel had thrown out the word to
which he was wont to attach a deep and significant mean-
ing, his throat contracted in a sharp spasm of the joy
of fight. He was seized with an invincible desire to
give himself up to the strength of his faith; to throw
his heart to the people. His heart kindled with the
dream of truth.

" Comrades ! " he repeated, extracting power and rap-
ture from the word. " We are the people who build
churches and factories, forge chains and coin money,
make toys and machines. We are that living force which
feeds and amuses the world from the cradle to the
grave."

"There!" Rybin exclaimed.

"Always and everywhere we are first in work but
last in life. Who cares for us ? Who wishes us good ?
Who regards us as human beings ? No one ! "

" No one ! " echoed from the crowd.

Pavel, mastering himself, began to talk more simply
and calmly; the crowd slowly drew about him, blending
into one dark, thick, thousand-headed body. It looked
into his face with hundreds of attentive eyes ; it sucked
in his words in silent, strained attention.

"We will not attain to a better life until we feel
ourselves as comrades, as one family of friends firmly
bound together by one desire — ^the desire to fight for
our rights."

" Get down to business ! " somebody standing near
the mother shouted rudely.

" Don't interrupt ! " " Shut up ! " The two muffled
exclamations were heard in different places. The soot-

85

MOTHMR

covered faces frowned in sulky incredulity; scores of
eyes looked into Pavd's face thoughtfully and seriously.

" A socialist, but no fool ! " somebody observed.
" I say, he does speak boldly ! " said a tall, crippled
workingman, tapping the mother on the shoulder.

" It is time, comrades, to take a stand against the
greedy power that lives by our labor. It is time to de-
fend ourselves ; we must all understand that no one ex-
cept ourselves will help us. One for all and all for one
— this is our law, if we want to crush the foe ! "

" He's right, boys ! " Makhotin shouted. " Listen to
the truth ! " And, with a broad sweep of his arm, he
shook his fist in the air.

" We must call out the manager at once," said Pavel.
" We must ask him."

As if struck by a tornado, the crowd rocked to and
fro; scores of voices shouted:

" The manager ! The manager ! Let him come ! Let
him explain ! "

" Send delegates for him ! Bring him here ! "

" No, don't ; it's not necessary ! "

The mother pushed her way to the front and looked
up at her son. She was filled with pride. Her son
stood among the old, respected workingmen ; all listened
to him and agreed with him ! She was pleased that he
was so calm and talked so simply ; not angrily, not swear-
ing, like the others. Broken exclamations, wrathful
words and oaths descended like hail on iron. Pavel
looked down on the people from his elevation, and with
wide-open eyes seemed to be seeking something among
them.

" Delegates ! "

"Let Sizov speak!"

"Vlasov!"

86

MOTHER

" Rybin ! He has a terrible tongue ! "

Finally Sizov, Rybin, and Pavel were chosen for the
interview with the manager. When just about to send
for the manager, suddenly low exclamations were heard
in the crowd :

"Here he comes himself!"

" The manager ? "

"Ah!"

The crowd opened to make way for a tall, spare man
with a pointed beard, an elongated face and blinking eyes.

" Permit me," he said, as he pushed the people aside
with a short motion of his hand, without touching them.
With the experienced look of a ruler of people, he scanned
the workingmen's faces with a searching gaze^ They
took their hats off and bowed to him. He walked past
them without acknowledging their greetings. His pres-
ence silenced and confused the crowd, and evoked embar-
rassed smiles and low exclamations, as of repentant chil-
dren who had already come to regret their prank.

Now he passed by the mother, casting a stern glance
at her face, and stopped before the pile of iron. Some-
body from above extended a hand to him; he did not
take it, but with an easy, powerful movement of his body
he clambered up and stationed himself in front of Pavel
and Sizov. Looking around the silent crowd, he asked :

" What's the meaning of this crowd ? Why have you
dropped your work ? "

For a few seconds silence reigned. Sizov waved his
cap in the air, shrugged his shoulders, and dropped his
head.

" I am asking you a question ! " continued the man-
ager.

Pavel moved alongside of him and said in a low voice^
pointing to Sizov and Rybin :

87

MOTHER

" We three are authorized by all the comrades to ask
you to revoke your order about the kopeck discount."

"Why?" asked the manager, without looking at
Pavel.

" We do not consider such a tax just ! " Pavel re-
plied loudly.

" So, in my plan to drain the marsh you see only
a desire to exploit the workingmen and not a desire to
better their conditions; is that it?"

"Yes!" Pavel replied.

" And you, also ? " the manager asked Rybin.

" The very same ! "

" How about you, my worthy friend ? " The manager
turned to Sizov.

" I, too, want to ask you to let us keep our kopecks."
And drooping his head again, Sizov smiled guiltily. The
manager slowly bent his look upon the crowd again,
shrugged his shoulders, and then, regarding Pavel search-
5ngly, observed:

" You appear to be a fairly intelligent man. Do you
not understand the usefulness of this measure ? "

Pavel replied loudly:

" If the factory should drain the marsh at its own
expense, we would all understand it ! "

" This factory is not in the philanthropy business ! "
remarked the manager dryly. " I order you all to start
work at once ! "

And he began to descend, cautiously feeling the iron
fwith his feet, and without looking at anyone.

A dissatisfied hum was heard in the crowd.

" What ! " asked the manager, halting.

All were silent ; then from the distance came a solitary
voice :

" You go to work yourself ! "
88

MOTHER

" If in fifteen minutes you do not start work, I'll order
every single one of you to be discharged ! " the manager
announced dryly and distinctly.

He again proceeded through the crowd, but now an
indistinct murmur followed him, and the shouting grew
louder as his figure receded.

"Speak to him!"

"That's what you call justice! Worse luck!"

Some turned to Pavel and shouted :

" Say, you great lawyer, you, what's to be done now ?
You talked and talked, but the moment he came it all
went up in the air ! "

"Well, Vlasov, what now?"

When the shouts became more insistent, Pavel raised
his hand and said:

" Comrades, I propose that we quit work until he
gives up that kopeck ! "

Excited voices burst out:

" He thinks we're fools ! "

" We ought to do it ! "

"A strike?"

"For one kopeck?"

"Why not? Why not strike?"

" We'll all be discharged ! "

" And who is going to do the work ? "

" There are others ! "

"Who? Judases?"

" Every year I would have to give three rubles and
sixty kopecks to the mosquitoes ! "

" All of us would have to give it ! "

Pavel walked down and stood at the side of his
mother. No one paid any attention to him now. They
were all yelling and debating hotly with one another.

" You cannot get them to strike ! " said Rybin, coming
89

MOTHMR

up to Pavel. " Greedy as these people are for a penny,
they are too cowardly. You may, perhaps, induce about
three hundred of them to follow you, no more. It's a
heap of dung you won't lift with one toss of the pitch-
fork, I tell you ! "

Pavel was silent. In front of him the huge black
face of the crowd was rocking wildly, and fixed on him
an importunate stare. His heart beat in alarm. It seemed
to him as if all the words he had spoken vanished in
the crowd without leaving any trace, like scattered drops
of rain falling on parched soil. One after the other,
workmen approached him praising his speech, but doubt-
ing the success of a strike, and complaining how little
the people understood their own interests and realized
their own strength.

Pavel had a sense of injury and disappointment as to
his own power. His head ached ; he felt desolate. Hith-
erto, whenever he pictured the triumph of his truth, he
wanted to cry with the delight that seized his heart. But
here he had spoken his truth to the people, and behold!
when clothed in words it appeared so pale, so powerless,
so incapable of affecting anyone. He blamed himself;
it seemed to him that he had concealed his dream in a
poor, disfiguring garment, and no one could, therefore,
detect its beauty.

He went home, tired and moody. He was followed
by his mother and Sizov, while Rybin walked alongside,
buzzing into his ear :

"You speak well, but you don't speak to the heart!
That's the trouble ! The spark must be thrown into the
heart, into its very depths ! "

" It's time we lived and were guided by reason," Pavel
said in a low voice.

"The boot does not fit the foot; it's too thin and
90

MOTHER

narrow! The foot won't get in! And if it does, it will
wear the boot out mighty quick. That is the trouble."

Sizov, meanwhile, talked to the mother.

" It's time for us old folks to get into our graves.
Nilovna ! A new people is coming. What sort of a life
have we lived? We crawled on our knees, and always
crouched on the ground! But here are the new people.
They have either come to their senses, or else are blun-
dering worse than we ; but they are not like us, anyway.
Just look at those youngsters talking to the manager as
to their equal ! Yes, ma'am ! Oh, if only my son Matvey
were alive ! Good-by, Pavel Vlasov ! You stand up for
the people all right, brother. Gk)d grant you his favor!
Perhaps you'll find a way out. God grant it ! " And he
walked away.

" Yes, you may as well die straight off ! " murmured
Rybin. " You are no men, now. You are only putty —
good to fill cracks with, that's all ! Did you see, Pavel,
who it was that shouted to make you a delegate? It
was those who call you socialist — ^agitator — ^yes! — ^think-
ing you'd be discharged, and it would serve you right ! "

"They are right, according to their lights!" said
Pavel.

" So are wolves when they tear one another to
pieces ! " Rybin's face was sullen, his voice unusually
tremulous.

The whole day Pavel felt ill at ease, as if he had
lost something, he did not know what, and anticipated
a further loss.

At night when the mother was asleep and he was
reading in bed, gendarmes appeared and began to search
everywhere — in the yard, in the attic. They were sullen ;
the yellow-faced officer conducted himself as on the first
occasion, insultingly, derisively, delighting in abuse, en-
7 91

MOTHMR

deayoring to cut down to the very heart. The inother,
in a corner, maintained silence, never Temoying her eyes
from her son's face. He made every effort not to betray
his emotion; but, whenever the officer laughed, his fingers
twitched strangely, and the old woman felt ho\y hard it
was for him not to reply, and to bear the jesting. This
time the affair was not so terrorizing to her as at the
first search. She felt a greater hatred to these gray,
spurred night callers, and her hatred swallowed up her
alarm.

Pavel managed to whisper :

"They'll arrest me."

Inclining her head, she quietly replied :

"1 understand."

She did understand — ^they would put him in jail for
what he had sai4 to the workingmen that day. But
since all agreed with what he had said,, and all ought
to stand up for him, he would not be detained long.

She longed to embrace him and cry over him; but
there stood the officer, watching her with a malevolent
squint of his eyes. His lips trembled, his mustache
twitched. It seemed to Vlasova that the officer \vas but
waiting for her tears, complaints, and supplications. With
a supreme effort endeavoring. to say as little as possible,
she pressed her son's hand, and holding her breath said
slowly, in a low tone:

' " Good-by, Pasha. Did you take everything you
need?"

" Everything. Don't worry ! "

" Christ be with you ! "

92

'It seemed to Vlasova that the officer was but waiting for
her tears."

CHAPTER IX

'HEN the police had led Pavel away, the
mother sat down on the bench, and closing
her eyes began to weep quietly. She leaned
her back against the wall, as her husband
used to do, her head thrown backward.
Bound up in her grief and the injured sense of her im-
potence, she cried long, gently, and monotonously, pour-
ing out all the pain of her wounded heart in her sobs.
And before her, like an irremovable stain, hung that
yellow face with the scant mustache, and the squinting '
eyes staring at her with malicious pleasure. Resentment
and bitterness were winding themselves about her breast
like black threads on a spool; resentment and bitterness
toward those who tear a son away from his mother be-
cause he is seeking truth.

It was cold; the rain pattered against the window
panes ; something seemed to be creeping along the walls.
She thought she heard, walking watchfully around the
house, gray, heavy figures, with broad, red faces, without
eyes, and with long arms. It seemed to her that she
almost heard the jingling of their spurs.

" I wish they had taken me, too ! " she thought.
The whistle blew, calling the people to work. This
time its sounds were low, indistinct, uncertain. The door
opened and Rybin entered. He stood before her, wiping
the raindrops from his beard.

" They snatched him away, did they ? " he asked.
93

MOTHER

" Yes, they did, the dogs ! " she replied, sighing.

" That's how it is," said Rybin, with a smile ; " they
searched me, too; went all through me — yes! Abused
me to their heart's content, but did me no harm beyond
that. So they carried oflf Pavel, did they? The manager
tipped the wink, the gendarme said ' Amen ! ' and lo ! a
man has disappeared. They certainly are thick together.
One goes through the people's pockets while the other
holds the gun."

" You ought to stand up for Pavel ! " cried the
mother, rising to her ieet. " It's for you all that he's
gone ! "

" Who ought to stand up for him? " asked Rybin.

" All of you ! "

" You want too much ! We'll do nothing of the kind !
Our masters have been gathering strength for thousands
of years; they have driven our hearts full of nails. We
cannot unite at once. We must first extract from our-
selves, each from the other, the iron spikes that prevent
us from standing close to one another."

And thus he departed, with his heavy gait, leaving
the mother to her grief, aggravated by the stern hopeless-
ness of his words.

The day passed in a thick mist of empty, senseless
longing. She made no fire, cooked no dinner, drank no
tea, and only late in the evening ate a piece of bread.
When she went to bed it occurred to her that her life
had never yet been so humiliating, so lonely and void.
During the last years she had become accustomed to
live constantly in the expectation of something momen-
tous, something good. Young people were circling
around her, noisy, vigorous, full of life. Her son's
thoughtful and earnest face was always before her, and
he seemed to be the master and creator of this thrilling

94

MOTHMR

and noble life. Now he was gone, everything was gone.
In the whole day, no one except the disagreeable Rybin
had called.

Beyond the window, the dense, cold rain was sighing
and knocking at the panes. The rain and the drippings
from the roof filled the air with a doleful, wailing melody.
The whole house appeared to be rocking gently to and
fro, and everything around her seemed aimless and un-
necessary.

A gentle rap was heard at the door. It came once,
and then a second time. She had grown accustomed to
* these noises; they no longer frightened her. A soft,
joyous sensation thrilled her heart, and a vague hope
quickly brought her to her feet. Throwing a shawl over
her shoulders, she hurried to the door and opened it.

Samoylov walked in, followed by another man with
his face hidden behind the collar of his overcoat and
under a hat thrust over his eyebrows.

" Did we wake you ? " asked Samoylov, without greet-
ing the mother, his face gloomy and thoughtful, con-
trary to his wont.

" I was not asleep," she said, looking at them with
expectant eyes.

Samoylov's companion took off his hat, and breathing
heavily and hoarsely said in a friendly basso, like an
old acquaintance, giving her his broad, short-fingered
hand:

" Good evening, granny ! You don't recognize me ? "

" Is it you ? " exclaimed Nilovna, with a sudden access
of delight. " Yegor Ivanovich ? "

" The very same identical one ! " replied he, bowing
his large head with its long hair. There was a good-
natured smile on his face^ and a clear, caressing look
in his small gray eyes. He was like a samovar — rotund,

95

MOTHER

short, with thick neck and short arms. His face was
shiny and glossy, with high cheek bones. He breathed
noisily, and his chest kept up a continuous low wheeze.

" Step into the room. I'll be dressed in a minute,"
the mother said.

" We have come to you on business," said Samoy-
lov thoughtfully, looking at her out of the corner of his
eyes.

Yegor Ivanovich passed into the room, and from there
said:

" Nikolay got out of jail this morning, granny. You
know him ? "

"How long was he there?" she asked.

" Five months and eleven days. He saw the Little
Russian there, who sends you his regards, and Pavel,
who also sends you his regards and begs you not to be
alarmed. As a man travels on his way, he says, the
jails constitute his resting places, established and main-
tained by the solicitous authorities! Now, granny, let
us get to the point. Do you know how many people were
arrested yesterday ? "

" I do not. Why, were there any others arrested
besides Pavel?" she exclaimed.

" He was the forty-ninth! " calmly interjected Yegor
Ivanovich. " And we may expect about ten more to be
taken ! This gentleman here, for example."

" Yes ; me, too ! " said Samoylov with a frown.

Nilovna somehow felt relieved.

" He isn't there alone," she thought.

When she had dressed herself, she entered the room
and, smiling bravely, said:

" I guess they won't detain them long, if they arrested
so many."

" You are right," assented Yegor Ivanovich ; " and if
96

MOTHER

we can manage to spoil this mess for them, we can make
them look altogether like fools. This is the way it is,
granny. If we were now to cease smuggling our litera-
ture into the factory, the gendarmes would take advan-
tage of such a regrettable circumstance, and would use
it against Pavel and his comrades in jail."

" How is that ? Why should they ? " the mother cried
in alarm.

" It's very plain, granny," said Yegor Ivanovich softly.
" Sometimes even gendarmes reason correctly. Just
think! Pavel was, and there were books and there
were papers ; Pavel is not, and no books and no papers !
Ergo, it was Pavel who distributed these books! Aha!
Then they'll begin to eat them all alive. Those gen-
darmes dearly love so to unman a man that what re-
mains of him is only a shred of himself, and a touching
memory."

" I see, I see," said the mother dejectedly. " O God !
What's to be done, then?"

" They have trapped them all, the devil take them ! "
came Samolov's voice from the kitchen. " Now we
must continue our work the same as before, and not
only for the cause itself, but also to save our com-
rades!"

" And there is no one to do the work," added Yegor,
smiling. " We have first-rate literature. I saw to that
myself. But how to get it into the factory, that's the
question ! "

"They search everybody at the gates now," said
Samoylov.

The mother divined that something was expected of
her. She understood that she could be useful to her son,
and she hastened to ask :

"Well, now? What are we to do?"
97

MOTHER

Samoylov stood in the doorway to answer.

" Pelagueya Nilovna, you know Marya Korsunova,
the peddler."

"I do. Well?"

" Speak to her; see if you can't get her to smuggle
in our wares."

" We could pay her, you know," interjected Yegor.

The mother waved her hands in negation.

" Oh, no ! The woman is a chatterbox. No ! If they
find out it comes from me, from this house — oh, no ! "

Then, inspired by a sudden idea, she began gladly
and in a low voice:

" Give it to me, give it to me. I'll manage it myself.
I'll find a way. I will ask Marya to make me her assist-
ant. I have to earn my living, I have to work. Don't I ?
Well, then, I'll carry dinners to the factory. Yes, I'll
manage it ! "

Pressing her hands to her bosom, she gave hurried
assurances that she would carry out her mission well
and escape detection. Finally she exclaimed in triumph :
"They'll find out — Pavel Vlasov is away, but his arm
reaches out even from jail. They'll find out ! "

All three became animated. Briskly rubbing his
hands, Yegor smiled and said:

" It's wonderful, stupendous ! I say, granny, it's
superb — simply magnificent ! "

" I'll sit in jail as in an armchair, if this succeeds,"
said Sanioylov, laughing and rubbing his hands.

" You are fine, granny ! " Yegor hoarsely cried.

The mother smiled. It was evident to her that if the
leaflets should continue to appear in the factory, the au-
thorities would be forced to recognize that it was not
her son who distributed them. And feeling assured of
success, she began to quiver all over with joy.

98

MOTHMR

" When you go to see Pavel," said Yegor, " tell him
he has a good mother."

" I'll see him very soon, I assure you," said Samoy-
lov, smiling.

The mother grasped his hand and said earnestly :

"Tell him that I'll do everything, everything neces-
sary. I want him to know it."

"And suppose they don't put him in prison?" asked
Yegor, pointing at Samoylov.

The mother sighed and said sadly :

" Well, then, it can't be helped 1 "

Both of them burst out laughing. And when she real-
ized her ridiculous blunder, she also began to laugh in
embarrassment, and lowering her eyes said somewhat
slyly :

"Bothering about your own folk keeps you from
seeing other people straight."

" That's natural ! " exclaimed Yegor. " And as to
Pavel, you need not worry about him. He'll come out
of prison a still better man. The prison is our place of
rest and study — ^things we have no time for when we are
at large. I was in prison three times, and each timcj
although I got scant pleasure, I certainly derived benefit
for my heart and mind."

" You breathe with difficulty," she said, looking afifec-
tionately at his open face.

" There are special reasons for that," he replied, rais-
ing his finger. " So the matter's settled, granny ? Yes ?
To-morrow we'll deliver the matter to you — and the
wheels that grind the centuried darkness to destruction
will again start a-roUing. Long live free speech ! And
long live ' a mother's heart ! And in the meantime,
good-by."

"Good-by," said Samoylov, giving her a vigorous
99

MOTHER

handshake. " To my mother, I don't dare even hint about
such matters. Oh, no ! "

" Everybody will understand in time," said Nilovna,
wishing to please him. " Everybody will understand."

When they left, she locked the door, and kneeling in
the middle of the room began to pray, to the accom-
paniment of the patter of the rain. It was a prayer
without words, one great thought of men, of all those
people whom Pavel introduced into her life. It was as
if they passed between her and the ikons upon which
she held her eyes riveted. And they all looked so
simple, so strangely near to one another, yet so lone in
life.

Early next morning the mother went to Marya Kor-
sunova. The peddler, noisy and greasy as usual, greeted
her with friendly sympathy.

"You are grieving?" Marya asked, patting the
mother on the back. " Now, don't. They just took him,
carried him off. Where is the calamity? There is no
harm in it. It used to be that men were thrown into
dungeons for stealing, now they are there for telling the
truth. Pavel may have said something wrong, but he
stood up for all, and they all know it. Don't worry!
They don't all say so, but they all know a good man when
they see him. I was going to call on you right along,
but had no time. I am always cooking and selling, but
will end my days a beggar, I guess, all the same. My
needs get the best of me, confound them! They keep
nibbling and nibbling like mice at a piece of cheese. No
sooner do I manage to scrape together ten rubles or so,
when along comes some heathen, and makes away with
all my money. Yes. It's hard to be a woman ! It's a
wretched business ! To live alone is hard, to live with
anyone, still harder ! "

loo

MOTHER

" And I came to ask you to take me as your assist-
ant," Vlasova broke in, interrupting her prattle.

" How is that ? " asked Marya. And after hearing
her friend's explanation, she nodded her head assentingly.

"That's possible! You remember how you used to
hide me from my husband? Well, now I am going to
hide you from want. Everyone ought to help you, for
your son is perishing for the public cause. He is a fine
chap, your son is! They all say so, every blessed soul
of them. And they all pity him. I'll tell you something.
No good is going to come to the authorities from these
arrests, mark my word! Look what's going on in the
factory ! Hear them talk ! They are in an ugly mood,
my dear ! The officials imagine that when they've bitten
at a man's heel, he won't be able to go far. But it turns
out that when ten men are hit, a hundred men get angry.
A workman must be handled with care ! He may go on
patiently enduring and suffering everything that's heaped
upon him for a long, long time, but then he can also
explode all of a sudden ! "

lOI

CHAPTER X

' HE upshot of the conversation was that the
next day at noon the mother was seen in
the factory yard with two pots of eatables
from Marya's cuUnary establishment, while
Marya herself transferred her base of op-
erations to the market place.

The workmen immediately noticed their new caterer.
Some of them approached her and said approvingly:
" Gone into business, Nilovna ? "
They comforted her, arguing that Pavel would cer-
tainly be released soon because his cause was a good one.
Others filled her sad heart with alarm by their cautious
condolence, while still others awoke a responsive echo in
her by openly and bitterly abusing the manager and the
gendarmes. Some there were who looked at her with
a vindictive expression, among them Isay Gorbov, who,
speaking through his teeth, said:

" If I were the governor, I would have your son
hanged 1 Let him not mislead the people ! "

This vicious threat went through her like the chill
blast of death. She made no reply, glanced at his small,
freckled face, and with a sigh cast down her eyes.

She observed considerable agitation in the factory;
the workmen gathered in small groups and talked in
an undertone, with great animation ; the foremen walked
about with careworn faces, poking their noses into every-

I02

MOTHMR

thing; here and there were heard angry oaths and irri-
tated laughter.

Two policemen escorted Samoylov past her. He
walked with one hand in his pocket, the other smoothing
his red hair.

A crowd of about a hundred workmen followed him,
and plied the policemen with oaths and banter.

" Going to take a promenade, Grisha ? " shouted one.

" They do honor to us fellows ! " chimed in another.

" When we go to promenading, we have a bodyguard
to escort us," said a third, and uttered a harsh oath.

" It does not seem to pay any longer to catch thieves ! "
exclaimed a tall, one-eyed workingman in a loud, bitter
voice. " So they take to arresting honest people."

" They don't even do it at night ! " broke in another.
"They come and drag them away in broad daylight,
without shame, the impudent scoundrels ! "

The policemen walked on rapidly and sullenly, trying
to avoid the sight of the crowd, and feigning not to hear
the angry exclamations showered upon them from all
sides. Three workmen carrying a big iron bar hap-
pened to come in front of them, and thrusting the bar
against them, shouted :

" Look out there, fishermen ! "

As he passed Nilovna, Samoylov nodded to her, and
smiling, said:

" Behold, this is Gregory, the servant of God, being
arrested."

She made a low bow to him in silence. These men,
so young, sober, and clever, who went to jail with a smile,
moved her, and she unconsciously felt for them the pity-
ing affection of a mother. It pleased her to hear the
sharp comments leveled against the authorities. She saw
therein her son's influence.

103

MOTHER

Leaving the factory, she passed the remainder of the
day at Marya's house, assisting her in her work, and
listening to her chatter. Late in the evening she returned
>home and found it bare, chilly and disagreeable. She
moved about from corner to corner, unable to find a
resting place, and not knowing what to do with herself.
Night was fast approaching, and she grew worried, be-
cause Yegor Ivanovich had not yet come and brought her
the literature which he had promised.

Behind the window, gray,.heavy flakes of spring snow
fluttered and settled softly and noiselessly upon the pane.
Sliding down and melting, they left a watery track in their
course. The mother thought of her son.

A cautious rap was heard. She rushed to the door,
lifted the latch, and admitted Sashenka. She had not
seen her for a long while, and the first thing that caught
her eye was the girl's unnatural stoutness.

" Good evening ! " she said, happy to have a visitor at
such a time, to relieve her solitude for a part of the night.
" You haven't been around for a long while ! Were you
away ? "

" No, I was in prison," replied the girl, smiling, " with
Nikolay Ivanovich. Do you remember him ? "

" I should think I do I " exclaimed the mother. " Ye-
gor Ivanovich told me yesterday that he had been re-
leased, but I knew nothing about you. Nobody told me
that you were there."

" What's the good of telling? I should like to change
my dress before Yegor Ivanovich comes ! " said the girl,
looking around.

" You are all wet."

" I've brought the booklets."

" Give them here, give them to me ! " cried the mother
impatiently.

104

MOTHER

"Directly," replied the girl. She untied her skirt
and shook it, and like leaves from a tree, down fluttered
a lot of thin paper parcels on the floor around her. The
mother picked them up, laughing, and said :

"I was wondering what made you so stout. Oh,
what a heap of them you have brought ! Did you come
on foot ? "

"Yes," said Sashenka. She was again her graceful,
slender self. The mother noticed that her cheeks were
shrunken, and that dark rings were under her unnaturally
large eyes.

" You are just out of prison. You ought to rest, and
there you are carrying a load like that for seven versts ! "
said the mother, sighing and shaking her head.

"It's got to be done!" said the girl. "Tell me,
how is Pavel? Did he stand it all right? He wasn't
very much worried, was he ? " Sashenka asked the
question without looking at the mother. She bent her
head and her fingers trembled as she arranged her
hair.

" All right," replied the mother. " You can rest as-
sured he won't betray himself."

" How strong he is ! " murmured the girl quietly.

'" He has never been sick," replied the mother. " Why,
you are all in a shiver ! I'll get you some tea, and some
raspberry jam."

" That's fine ! " exclaimed the girl with a faint smile.
"But don't you trouble! It's too late. Let me do it
myself."

" What ! Tired as you are? " the mother reproached
her, hurrying into the kitchen, where she busied herself
with the samovar. The girl followed into the kitchen,
sat down on the bench, and folded her hands behind her
head before she replied :

MOTHMR

" Yes, I'm very tired ! After all, the prison makes one
weak. The awful thing about it is the enforced inactivity.
There is nothing more tormenting. We stay a week, five
weeks. We know how much there is to be done. The
people are waiting for knowledge. We're in a position
to satisfy their wants, and there we are locked up in a
cage like animals ! That's what is so trying, that's what
dries up the heart ! "

"Who will reward you for all this?" asked the
mother ; and with a sigh she answered the question her-
self. " No one but God ! Of course you don't believe
in Him either ? "

" No ! " said the girl briefly, shaking her head.

" And I don't believe you ! " the mother ejaculated in
a sudden burst of excitement. Quickly wiping her char-
coal-blackened hands on her apron she continued, with
deep conviction in her voice :

" You don't understand your own faith ! How could
you live the kind of life you are living, without faith in
God?"

A loud stamping of feet and a murmur of voices were
heard on the porch. The mother started ; the girl quickly
rose to her feet, and whispered hurriedly :

"Don't open the door! If it's the gendarmes, you
don't know me. I walked into the wrong house, came
here by accident, fainted away, you undressed me, and
found the books around me. You understand ? "

"Why, my dear, what for?" asked the mother
tenderly.

" Wait a while ! " said Sashenka listening. " I think
it's Yegor."

It was Yegor, wet and out of breath,

" Aha ! The samovar ! " he cried. " That's the best
thing in life, granny! You here already, Sashenka?"

io6

MOTHER

His hoarse voice filled the little kitchen. He slowly
removed his heavy ulster, talking all the time.

" Here, granny, is a girl who is a thorn in the flesh
of the police ! Insulted by the overseer of the prison, she
declared that she would starve herself to death if he did
not ask her pardon. And for eight days she went with-
out eating, and came within a hair's breadth of dying.
It's not bad! She must have a mighty strong little
stomach."

"Is it possible you took no food for eight days in
succession?" asked the mother in amazement.

" I had to get him to beg my pardon," answered the
girl with a stoical shrug of her shoulders. Her com-
posure and her stern persistence seemed almost like a
reproach to the mother.

"And suppose you had died?" she asked again.

" Well, what can one do ? " the girl said quietly. " He
did beg my pardon after all. One ought never to for-
give an insult, never ! "

" Ye-es ' " responded the mother slowly. " Here are
we women who are insulted all our lives long."

" I have unloaded myself ! " announced Yegor from
the other room. " Is the samovar ready ? Let me take
it in!"

He lifted the samovar and talked as he carried it.

" My own father used to drink not less than twenty
glasses of tea a day, wherefor his days upon earth were
long, peaceful, and strong; for he lived to be seventy-
three years old, never having suffered from any ail-
ment whatsoever. In weight he reached the respect-
able figure of three hundred and twenty pounds, and
by profession he was a sexton in the village of Vosk-
resensk."

" Are you Ivan's son ? " exclaimed the mother.
8 107

MOTHER

"I am that very mortal. How did you know his
name ? "

" Why, I am a Voskresenskian myself ! "

" A fellow countrywoman ! Who were your people? "

" Your neighbors. I am a Sereguin."

"Are you a daughter of Nil the Lame? I thought
your face was familiar 1 Why, I had my ears pulled by
him many and many a time ! "

They stood face to face plying each other with ques-
tions and laughing. Sashenka looked at them and smiled,
and began to prepare the tea. The clatter of the dishes
recalled the mother to the realities of the present.

" Oh, excuse me ! I quite forgot myself, talking about
old times. It is so sweet to recall your youth."

" It's I who ought to beg your pardon for carrying on
like this in your house ! " said Sashenka. " But it is
eleven o'clock already, and I have so far to go."

"Go where? To the city?" the mother asked in
surprise,

" Yes."

"What are you talking about! It's dark and wet,
and you are so tired. Stay here overnight. Yegor Ivano-
vich will sleep in the kitchen, and you and I here."

" No, I must go," said the girl simply.

" Yes, countrywoman, she must go. The young lady
must disappear. It would be bad if she were to be seen
on the street to-morrow."

" But how can she go? By herself? "

" By herself," said Yegor, laughing.

The girl poured tea for herself, took a piece of rye
bread, salted it, and started to eat, looking at the mother
contemplatively.

" How can you go that way ? Both you and Natasha.
I wouldn't. I'm afraid ! "

loS

MOTHMR

" She's afraid, too," said Yegor. " Aren't you afraid,
Sasha?"

"Of course!"

The mother looked at her, then at Yegor, and said in
a low voice, " What strange "

" Give me a glass of tea, granny," Yegor interrupted
her.

When Sasfienka had drunk her glass of tea, she
pressed Yegor's hand in silence, and walked out into the
kitchen. The mother followed her. In the kitchen Sa-
shenka said :

" When you see Pavel, give him my regards, please."
And taking hold of the latch, she suddenly turned around,
and asked in a low voice : " May I kiss you ? "

The mother embraced her in silence, and kissed her
warmly.

" Thank you ! " said the girl, and nodding her head,
walked out.

Returning to the room, the mother peered anxiously
through the window. Wet flakes of snow fluttered
through the dense, moist darkness.

" And do you remember Prozorov, the storekeeper ? "
asked Yegor. " He used to sit with his feet sprawling,
and blow noisily into his glass of tea. He had a red,
satisfied, sweet-covered face."

" I remember, I remember," said the mother, coming
back to the table. She sat down, and looking at Yegor
with a mournful expression in her eyes, she spoke pity-
ingly: "Poor Sashenka! How will she ever get to the
city?"

" She will be very much worn out," Yegor agreed.
"The prison has shaken her health badly. She was
stronger before. Besides, she has had a delicate bring-
ing up. It seems to me she has already ruined her lungs.

109

MOTHER

There is something in her face that reminds one of con-
sumption."

"Who is she?"

" The daughter of a landlord. Her father is a rich
man and a big scoundrel, according to what she says. I
suppose you know, granny, that they want to marry?"

"Who?"

" She and Pavel. Yes, indeed ! But so far they have
not yet been able. When he is free, she is in prison, and
vice versa." Yegor laughed.

" I didn't know it ! " the mother replied after a pause.
" Pasha never speaks about himself."

Now she felt a still greater pity for the girl, and look-
ing at her guest with involuntary hostility, she said :

" You ought to have seen her home."

" Impossible ! " Yegor answered calmly. " I have a
heap of work to do here, and the whole day to-morrow,
from early morning, I shall have to walk and walk and
walk. No easy job, considering my asthma."

"She's a fine girl!" said the mother, vaguely think-
ing of what Yegor had told her. She felt hurt that the
news should have come to her, not from her son, but
from a stranger, and she pressed her lips together tightly,
and lowered her eyebrows.

" Yes, a fine girl ! " Yegor nodded assent. " There's a
bit of the noblewoman in her yet, but it's growing less and
less all the time. You are sorry for her, I see. What's
the use? You won't find heart enough, if you start to
grieve for all of us rebels, granny dear. Life is not made
very easy for us, I admit. There, for instance, is the case
of a friend of mine who returned a short while ago from
exile. When he went through Novgorod, his wife and
child awaited him in Smolensk, and when he arrived in
Smolensk, they were already in prison in Moscow. Now

no

MOTHMR

it's the wife's turn to go to Siberia. To be a revolution-
ary and to be married is a very inconvenient arrangement
— inconvenient for the husband, inconvenient for the wife
and in the end for the cause also ! I, too, had a wife, an
excellent woman, but five years of this kind of life landed
her in the grave."

He emptied the glass of tea at one gulp, and con-
tinued his narrative. He enumerated the years and
months he had passed in prison and in exile, told of vari-
ous accidents and misfortunes, of the slaughters in pris-
ons, and of hunger in Siberia. The mother looked at him,
listened with wonderment to the simple way in which he
spoke of this life, so full of suffering, of persecution, of
wrong, and abuse of men.

" Well, let's get down to business I "

His voice changed, and his face grew more serious.
He asked questions about the way in which the mother
intended to smuggle the literature into the factory,
and she marveled at his clear knowledge of all the
details.

Then they returned to reminiscences of their native
village. He joked, and her mind roved thoughtfully
through her past. It seemed to her strangely like a quag-
mire uniformly strewn with hillocks, which were covered
with poplars trembling in constant fear; with low firs,
and with white birches straying between the hillocks.
The birches grew slowly, and after standing for five
years on the unstable, putrescent soil, they dried up, fell
down, and rotted away. She looked at this picture, and
a vague feeling of insufferable sadness overcame her.
The figure of a girl with a sharp, determined face stood
before her. Now the figure walks somewhere in the
darkness amid the snowflakes, solitary, weary. And her
son sits in a little cell, with iron gratings over the win-

III

MOTHER

dow. Perhaps he is not yet asleep, and is thinking. But
he is thinking not of his mother. He has one nearer to
him than herself. Heavy, chaotic thoughts, like a tangled
mass of clouds, crept over her, and encompassed her and
oppressed her bosom.

" You are tired, granny ! Let's go to bed ! " said Ye-
gor, smiling.

She bade him good night, and sidled carefully into
the kitchen, carrying away a bitter, caustic feeling in her
heart.

In the morning, after breakfast, Yegor asked her :

" Suppose they catch you and ask you where you got
all these heretical books from. What will you say ? "

" I'll say, ' It's none of your business ! ' " she answered,
smiling.

" You'll never convince them of that ! " Yegor re-
plied confidently. " On the contrary, they are profoundly
convinced that this is precisely their business. They
will question you very, very diligently, and very, very
long!"

"I won't tell, though!"

" They'll put you in prison ! "

"Well, what of it? Thank God that I am good at
least for that," she said with a sigh. " Thank God ! Who
needs me ? Nobody ! "

" H'm ! " said Yegor, fixing his look upon her. " A
good person ought to take care of himself."

" I couldn't learn that from you, even if I were good,"
the mother replied, laughing.

Yegor was silent, and paced up and down the room ;
then he walked up to her and said : " This is hard, country-
woman ! I feel it, it's very hard for you ! "

" It's hard for everybody," she answered, with a wave
of her hand. " Maybe only for those who understand,

112

MOTHER

it's easier. But I understand a little, too. I understand
what it is the good people want."

"If you do understand, granny, then it means that
everybody needs you, everybody ! " said Yegor earnestly
and solemnly.

She looked at him and laughed without saying any-
thing.

113

CHAPTER XI

'T noon, calmly and in a businesslike way
she put the books around her bosom, and
so skillfully and snugly that Yegor an-
nounced, smacking his lips with satisfac-
tion:

" Sehr gut! as the German says when he has drunk
a keg of beer. Literature has not changed you, granny.
You still remain the good, tall, portly, elderly woman.
May all the numberless gods grant you their blessings
on your enterprise ! "

Within half an hour she stood at the factory gate,
bent with the weight of her burden, calm and assured.
Two guards, irritated by the oaths and raillery of the
workingmen, examined all who entered the gate, hand-
ling them roughly and swearing at them. A policeman
and a thin-legged man with a red face and alert eyes
stood at one side. The mother, shifting the rod resting
on her shoulders, with a pail suspended from either end
of it, watched the man from the corner of her eye. She
divined that he was a spy.

A tall, curly-headed fellow with his hat thrown
back over his neck, cried to the guardsmen who searched
him:

" Search the head and not the pockets, you devils ! "
"There is nothing but lice on your head," retorted
one of the guardsmen.

"4

MOTHMR

"Catching lice is an occupation more suited to you
than hunting human game ! " rejoined the workman.
The spy scanned him with a rapid glance.

" Will you let me in ? " asked the mother. " See, I'm
bent double with my heavy load. My back is almost
breaking."

" Go in ! Go in ! " cried the guard sullenly. " She
comes with arguments, too."

The mother walked to her place, set her pails on the
ground, and wiping the perspiration from her face looked
around her.

The Gusev brothers, the locksmiths, instantly came
up to her, and the older of them, Vasily, asked aloud,
knitting his eyebrows :

" Got any pirogs ? "

" I'll bring them to-morrow," she answered.

This was the password agreed upon. The faces of
the brothers brightened. Ivan, unable to restrain him-
self, exclaimed:

" Oh, you jewel of a mother ! "

Vasily squatted down on his heels, looked into the
pot, and a bundle of books disappeared into his bosom.

" Ivan ! " he said aloud. " Let's not go home, let's
get our dinner here from her ! " And he quickly shoved
the books into the legs of his boots. " We must give our
new peddler a lift, don't you think so ? "

" Yes, indeed ! " Ivan assented, and laughed aloud.

The mother looked carefully about her, and called
out:

" Sour cabbage soup ! Hot vermicelli soup ! Roast
meat ! "

Then deftly and secretly taking out one package of
books after the other, she shoved them into the hands
of the brothers. Each time a bundle disappeared from

"5

MOTHER

her hands, the sickly, sneering face of the officer of
gendarmes flashed up before her like a yellow stain,
like the flame of a match in a dark room, and she
said to him in her mind, with a feeling of malicious
pleasure :

" Take this, sir ! " And when she handed over the
last package she added with an air of satisfaction : " And
here is some more, take it ! "

Workmen came up to her with cups in their hands,
and when they were near Ivan and Vasily, they began
to laugh aloud. The mother calmly suspended the trans-
fer of the books, and poured sour soup and vermicelli
soup, while the Gusevs joked her.

" How cleverly Nilovna does her work ! "

" Necessity drives one even to catching mice," re-
marked a stoker somberly. " They have snatched away
your breadgiver, the scoundrels! Well, give us three
cents' worth of vermicelli. Never mind, mother ! You'll
pull through ! "

" Thanks for the good word ! " she returned, smiKqg.

"He walked off to one side and mumbled, " It doesn't
cost me much to say a good word ! "

" But there's no one to say it to ! " observed a black-
smith, with a smile, and shrugging his shoulders in sur-
prise added : " There's a life for you, fellows ! There's
no one to say a good word to ; no one is worth it. Yes,
sir!"

Vasily Gusev rose, wrapped his coat tightly around
him, and exclaimed:

"What I ate was hot, and yet I feel cold."

Then he walked away. Ivan also rose, and ran off
whistling merrily.

Cheerful and smiling, Nilovna kept on calling her
wares :

116

"Taking out one package of books after the other, she
shoved them into the hands of the brothers."

MOTHER

"Hot! Hot! Sour soup! Vermicelli soup! Por-
ridge!"

She thought of how she would tell her son about her
first experience; and the yellow face of the officer was
still standing before her, perplexed and spiteful. His
black mustache twitched uneasily, and his upper lip
turned up nervously, showing the gleaming white enamel
of his clenched teeth. A keen joy beat and sang in her
heart like a bird, her eyebrows quivered, and continuing
deftly to serve her customers she muttered to herself:

" There's more ! There's more ! "

Through the whole day she felt a sensation of delight-
ful newness which embraced her heart as with a fond-
ling caress. And in the evening, when she had concluded
her work at Marya's house, and was drinking tea, the
splash of horses' hoofs in the mud was heard, and the
call of a familiar voice. She jumped up, hurried into the
kitchen, and made straight for the-^door. Somebody
walked quickly through the porch; her eyes grew dim,
and leaning against the doorpost, she pushed the door
open with her foot.

" Good evening, mother ! " a familiar, melodious voice
rang out, and a pair of dry, long hands were laid on
her shoulders.

The joy of seeing Andrey was mingled in her bosom
with the sadness of disappointment; and the two con-
trary feelings blended into one burning sensation which
embraced her like a hot wave. She buried her face in
Audrey's bosom. He pressed her tightly to himself, his
hands trembled. The mother wept quietly without speak-
ing, while he stroked her hair, and spoke in his musical
voice :

" Don't cry, mother. Don't wring my heart. Upon
my honest word, they will let him out soon! They

"7

MOTHER

haven't a thing against him ; all the boys will keep quiet
as cooked fish."

Putting his long arm around the mother's shoulders
he led her into the room, and nestling up against him
with the quick gesture of a squirrel, she wiped the tears
from her face, while her heart greedily drank in his
tender words.

" Pavel sends you his love. He is as well and cheer-
ful as can be. It's very crowded in the prison. They
have thrown in more than a hundred of our people, both
from here and from the city. Three and four persons
have been put into one cell. The prison officials are rather
a good set. They are exhausted with the quantity of
work the gendarmes have been giving them. The prison
authorities are not extremely rigorous, they don't order
you about roughly. They simply say : ' Be quiet as you
can, gentlemen. Don't put us in an awkward position ! '
So everything goes well. We talk with one another, we
give books to one another, and we share our food. It's
a good prison ! Old and dirty, but so soft and so light.
The criminals are also nice people; they help us a good
deal. Bukin, four others, and myself were released. It
got too crowded. They'll let Pavel go soon, too. I'm
telling you the truth, believe me. Vyesovshchikov will
be detained the longest. They are very angry at him.
He scolds and swears at everybody all the time. The
gendarmes can't bear to look at him. I guess he'll get
himself into court, or receive a sound thrashing some day.
Pavel tries to dissuade him. ' Stop, Nikolay ! ' he says to
him. 'Your swearing won't reform them.' But he
bawls : ' Wipe them off the face of the earth like a
pest ! ' Pavel conducts himself finely out there ; he
treats all alike, and is as firm as a rock! They'll soon
let him go."

ii8

MOTHMR

" Soon ? " said the mother, relieved now and smiling.
" I know he'll be let out soon ! "

"Well, if you know, it's all right! Give me tea,
mother. Tell me how you've been, how you've passed
your time."

He looked at her, smiling all over, and seemed so near
to her, such a splendid fellow. A loving, somewhat mel-
ancholy gleam flashed from the depths of his round, blue
eyes.

" I love you dearly, Andriusha ! " the mother said,
heaving a deep sigh, as she looked at his thin face gro-
tesquely covered with tufts of hair.

" People are satisfied with little from me ! I know
you love me ; yOu are capable of loving everybody ; you
have a great h^art," said the Little Russian, rocking in
his chair, his eyes straying about the room.

" No, I love you very differently ! " insisted the
mother. " If you had a inother, people would envy her
because she had such a son."

The Little Russian swayed his head, and rubbed it
vigorously with both hands.

" I have a mother, somewhere ! " he said in a low
voice.

" Do you know what I did to-day ? " she exclaimed,
and reddening a little, her voice choking with satisfaction,
she quickly recounted how she had smuggled literature
into the factory.

For a moment he looked at her in amazement with
his eyes wide open ; then he burst out into a loud guffaw,
stamped his feet, thumped his head with his fingers, aijd
cried joyously :

" Oho ! That's no joke any more ! That's business !
Won't Pavel be glad, though! Oh, you're a trump.
That's good, mother! You have no idea how good it

119

MOTHER

is! Both for Pavel and all who were arrested with
him!"

He snapped his fingers in ecstasy, whistled, and fairly
doubled over, all radiant with joy. His delight evoked
a vigorous response from the mother.

" My dear, my Andriusha ! " she began, as if her heart
had burst open, and gushed over merrily with a limpid
stream of living words full of serene joy. " I've thought
all my life, ' Lord Christ in heaven ! what did I live for? '
Beatings, work ! I saw nothing except my husband. I
knew nothing but fear ! And how Pasha grew I did not
see, and I hardly know whether I loved him when my
husband was alive. All my concerns, all my thoughts
were centered upon one thing — ^to feed my beast, to pro-
pitiate the master of my life with enough food, pleasing
to his palate, and served on time, so as not to incur his
displeasure, so as to escape the terrors of a beating, to
get him to spare me but once! But I do not remember
that he ever did spare me. He beat me so — ^not as a wife
is beaten, but as one whom you hate and detest. Twenty
years I lived like that, and what was up to the time of
my marriage I do not recall. I remember certain things,
but I see nothing ! I am as a blind person. Yegor Ivano-
vich was here — we are from the same village — and he
spoke about this and about that. I remember the houses,
the people, but how they lived, what they spoke about,
what happened to this one and what to that one — I forget,
I do not see ! I remember fires — two fires. It seems that
everything has been beaten out of me, that my soul has
been locked up and sealed tight. It's grown blind, it does
not hear ! "

Her quick-drawn breath was almost a sob. She bent
forward, and continued in a lowered voice : " When my
husband died I turned to my son ; but he went into this

I20

MOTHER

business, and I was seized with a pity for him, such a
yearning pity — for if he should perish, how was I to live
alone? What dread, what fright I have undergone ! My
heart was rent when I thought of his fate.

" Our woman's love is not a pure love ! We love that
which we need. And here are you! You are grieving
about your mother. What do you want her for? And
all the others go and suffer for the people, they go to
prison, to Siberia, they die for them, many are hung.
Young girls walk alone at night, in the snow, in the mud,
in the rain. They walk seven versts from the city to
our place. Who drives them? Who pursues them?
They love! You see, theirs is pure love! They be-
lieve! Yes, indeed, they believe, Andriusha! But here
am I — I can't love like that! I love my own, the near
ones ! "

" Yes, you can ! " said the Little Russian, and turn-
ing away his face from her, he rubbed his head, face, and
eyes vigorously as was his wont. " Everybody loves
those who are near," he continued. " To a large heart,
what is far is also near. You, mother, are capable of a
great deal. You have a large capacity of motherliness ! "

" God grant it ! " she said quietly. " I feel that it is
good to live like that ! Here are you, for instance, whom
I love. Maybe I love you better than I do Pasha. He is
always so silent. Here he wants to get married to Sa-
shenka, for example, and he never told me, his mother,
a thing about it."

" That's not true," the Little Russian retorted abrupt-
ly, " I know it isn't true. It's true he loves her, and she
loves him. But marry? No, they are not going to
marry ! She'd want to, but Pavel — he can't ! He doesn't
want to ! "

" See how you are ! " said the mother quietly, and she

121

MOTHER

fixed her eyes sadly and musingly on the Little Russian's
face. " You see how you are ! You offer up your own
selves ! " '

" Pavel is a rare man ! " the Little Rtfssian uttered in

V

a low voice. " He is a man of iron ! "

" Now he sits in prison," continued the mother reflec-
tively. " It's awful, it's terrible 1 It's not as it used to
be before! Life altogether is not as it used to be, and
the terror is different from the old terror. You feel a
pity for everybody, and you are alarmed for everybody!
And the heart is different. The soul has opened its eyes,
it looks on, and is sad and glad at the same time. There's
much I do not understand, and I feel so bitter and hurt
that you do not believe in the Lord God. Well, I guess
I can't help that ! But I see and know that you are good
people. And you have consecrated yourselves to a stern
life for the sake of the people, to a life of hardship for
the sake of truth. The truth you stand for, I com-
prehend: as long as there will be the rich, the people
will get nothing, neither truth nor happiness, nothing!
Indeed, that's so, Andriusha! Here am I living among
you, while all this is going on. Sometimes at night my
thoughts wander off to my past. I think of my youthful
strength trampled under foot, of my young heart torn
and beaten, and I feel sorry for myself and embittered.
But for all that I live better now, I see myself more and
more, I feel myself more."

The Little Russian arose, and trying not to scrape
with his feet, began to walk carefully up and down the
room, tall, lean, absorbed in thought.

" Well said ! " he exclaimed in a low voice. " Very
well! There was a young Jew in Kerch who wrote
verses, and once he wrote :

122

MOTHER

" And the innocently slain,
Truth will raise to life again.

"He himself was killed by the police in Kerch, but
that's not the point. He knew the truth and did a great
deal to spread it among the people. So here you are one
of the innocently slain. He spoke the truth ! "

"There, I am talking now," the mother continued.
" I talk and do not hear myself, don't believe my own
ears! All my life I was silent, I always thought of one
thing — how to live through the day apart, how to pass
it without being noticed, so that nobody should touch
me ! And now I think about everything. Maybe I don't
understand your affairs so very well ; but all are near me,
I feel sorry for all, and I wish well to all. And to you,
Andriusha, more than all the rest."

He took her hand in his, pressed it tightly, and quickly
turned aside. Fatigued with emotion and agitation, the
mother leisurely and silently washed the cups; and her
breast gently glowed with a bold feeling that warmed her
heart.

Walking up and down the room the Little Russian
said:

" Mother, why don't you sometimes try to befriend
Vyesovshchikov and be kind to him ? He is a fellow that
needs it. His father sits in prison — a nasty little old man.
Nikolay sometimes catches sight of him through the win-
dow and he begins to swear at him. That's bad, you
know. He is a good fellow, Nikolay is. He is fond of
dogs, mice, and all sorts of animals, but he does not like
people. That's the pass to which a man can be brought."

" His mother disappeared without a trace, his father
is a thief and a drunkard," said Nilovna pensively.

When Andrey left to go to bed, the mother, without
9 123

MOTHMR

being noticed, made the sign of the cross over him, and
after about half an hour, she asked quietly, "Are you
asleep, Andriusha ? "

"No. Why?"

" Nothing ! Good night ! "

" Thank you, mother, thank you ! " he answered
gently.

124

CHAPTER XII

[HE next day when Nilovna came up to the
gates of the factory with her load, the
guides stopped her roughly, and ordering
her to put the pails down on the ground,
made a careful examination.
" My eatables will get cold," she observed calmly, as
they felt around her dress.

" Shut up ! " said a guard sullenly.
Another one, tapping her lightly on the shoulder, said
with assurance:

" Those books are thrown across the fence, I say ! "
Old man Sizov came up to her and looking around
said in an undertone :

" Did you hear, mother ? "
"What?"

"About the pamphlets. They've appeared again.
They've just scattered them all over like salt over bread.
Much good those arrests and searches have done! My
nephew Mazin has been hauled away to prison, your
son's been taken. Now it's plain it.isn't he ! " And strok-
ing his beard Sizov concluded, " It's not people, but
thoughts, and thoughts are not fleas; you can't catch
them!"

He gathered his beard in his hand, looked at her, and
said as he walked away:

" Why don't you come to see me some time ? I guess
you are lonely all by yourself."

I2S

MOTHER

She thanked him, and calling her wares, she sharply
observed the unusual animation in the factory. The
workmen were all elated, they formed little circles, then
parted, and ran from one group to another. Animated
voices and happy, satisfied faces all around! The soot-
filled atmosphere was astir and palpitating with some-
thing bold and daring. Now here, now there, approving,
ejaculations were heard, mockery, and sometimes threats.

" Aha ! It seems truth doesn't agree with them," she
heard one say.

The younger men were in especially good spirits,
while the elder workmen had cautious smiles on their
faces. The authorities walked about with a troubled ex-
pression, and the police ran from place to place. When
the workingmen saw them, they dispersed, and walked
away slowly, or if they remained standing, they stopped
their conversation, looking silently at the agitated, angry
faces.

The workingmen seemed for some reason to be all
washed and clean. The figure of Gusev loomed high,
and his brother stalked about like a drake, and roared ,
with laughter. The joiner's foreman, Vavilov, and the
record clerk, Isay, walked slowly past the mother. The
little, wizened clerk, throwing up his head and turning
his neck to the left, looked at the frowning face of the
foreman, and said quickly, shaking his reddish beard:

" They laugh, Ivan Ivanovich. It's fun to them.
They are pleased, although it's no less a matter than the
destruction of the government, as the manager said.
What must be done here, Ivan Ivanovich, is not merely
to weed but to plow ! "

Vavilov walked with his hands folded behind his
back, and his fingers tightly clasped.

" You print there what you please, you blackguards ! "
126

MOTHMR

he cried aloud. " But don't you dare say a word about
me!"

Vasily Gusev came up to Nilovna and declared:

" I am going to eat with you again. Is it good to-
day ? " And lowering his head and screwing up his eyes,
he added in an undertone: "You see? It hit exactly!
Good ! Oh, mother, very good ! "

She nodded her head affably to him, flattered that
Gusev, the sauciest fellow in the village, addressed her
with a respectful plural "you," as he talked to her in
secret. The general stir and animation in the factory also
pleased her, and she thought to herself: "What would
they do without me ? "

Three common laborers stopped at a short distance
from her, and one of them said with disappointment in
his voice : " I couldn't find any anywhere ! "

Another remarked : " I'd like to hear it, though. I
can't read myself, but I understand it hits them just in
the right place."

The third man looked around him, and said : " Let's
go into the boiler room. I'll read it for you there ! "

" It works ! " Gusev whispered, a wink lurking in
his eye.

Nilovna came home in gay spirits. She had now
seen for herself how people are moved by books.

"The people down there are sorry they can't read,"
she said to Audrey, " and here am I who could when I
was young, but have forgotten."

" Learn over again, then," suggested the Little Russian.

"At my age? What do you want to make fun of
me for?"

Andrey, however, took a book from the shelf and
pointing with the tip of a knife at a letter on the cover,
asked: " What's this ? "

127

MOTHER

" R," she answered, laughing.

"And this?"

" A."

She felt awkward, hurt, and oifended. It seemed to
her that Andrey's eyes were laughing at her, and she
avoided their look. But his voice sounded soft and calm
in her ears. She looked askance at his face, once, and a
second time. It was earnest and serious.

" Do you really wish to teach me to read ? " she asked
with an involuntary smile.

"Why not?" he responded. "Try! If you once
knew how to read, it will come back to you easily. ' If
no miracle it's no ill, and if a miracle better still ! ' "

" But they say that one does not become a saint by
looking at a sacred image ! "

" Eh," said the Little Russian, nodding his head.
"There are proverbs galore! For example: 'The less
you know, the better you sleep ' — isn't that it ? Proverbs
are the material the stomach thinks with j it makes bridles
for the soul, to be able to control it better. What the
stomach needs is a rest, and the soul needs freedom.
V/hat letter is this ? "

" M."

" Yes, see how it sprawls. And this ? "

Straining her eyes and moving her eyebrows heavily,
she recalled with an effort the forgotten letters, and un-
consciously yielding to the force of her exertions, she
was carried away by them, and forgot herself. But soon
her eyes grew tired. At first they became moist with
tears of fatigue ; and then tears of sorrow rapidly dropped
down on the page.

" I'm learning to read," she said, sobbing. " It's time
for me to die, and I'm just learning to read ! "

"You mustn't cry," said the Little Russian gently.
128

MOTHER

"It wasn't your fault you lived the way you did; and
yet you understand that you lived badly. There are
thousands of people who could live better than you, but
who live like cattle and then boast of how well they live.
But what is good in their lives ? To-day, their day's work
over, they eat, and to-morrow, their day's work over, they
eat, and so on through all their years — ^work and eat,
work and eat ! Along with this they bring forth children,
and at first amuse themselves with them, but when they,
too, begin to eat much, they grow surly and scold : ' Come
on, you gluttons ! Hurry along ! Grow up quick ! It's
time you get to work ! ' and they would like to make
beasts of burden of their children. But the children be-
gin to work for their own stomachs, and drag their lives
along as a thief drags a worthless stolen mop. Their
souls are never stirred with joy, never quickened with a
thought that melts the heart. Some live like mendicants
— always begging; some like thieves — always snatching
out of the hands of others. They've made thieves' laws,
placed men with sticks over the people, and said to them :
'Guard our laws; they are very convenient laws; they
permit us to suck the blood out of the people ! ' They
try to squeeze the people from the outside, but the people
resist, and so they drive the rules inside so as to crush
the reason, too."

Leaning his elbows on the table and looking into the
mother's face with pensive eyes, he continued in an even,
flowing voice :

" Only those are men who strike the chains from off
man's body and from off his reason. And now you, too,
are going into this work according to the best of your
ability."

"I? Now, now! How can I?"

"Why not? It's just like rain. Every drop goes
129

MOTHMR

to nourish the seed! And when you are able to read,
then — " He stopped and began to laugh ; then rose and
paced up and down the room.

" Yes, you must learn to read ! And when Pavel gets
back, won't you surprise him, eh ? "

"Oh, Andriusha! For a young man everything is
simple and easy! But when you have lived to my age,
you have lots of trouble, little strength, and no mind at
all left."

In the evening the Little Russian went out. The
mother lit a lamp and sat down at a table to knit stock-
ings. But soon she rose again, walked irresolutely into
the kitchen, bolted the outer door, and straining her eye-
brows walked back into the living room. She pulled
down the window curtains, and taking a book from the
shelf, sat down at the table again, looked around, bent
down over the .book, and began to move her lips. When
she heard a noise on the street, she started, clapped the
book shut with the palm of her hand, and listened in-
tently. And again, now closing, now opening her eyes,
she whispered :

"E— z— a."

With even precision and stern regularity the dull tick
of the pendulum marked the dying seconds.

A knock at the door was heard ; the mother jumped
quickly to her feet, thrust the book on the shelf, and
walking up to the door asked anxiously :

"Who's there?"

130

CHAPTER XIII

^YBIN came in, greeted her, and stroking
his beard in a dignified manner and peep-
ing into the room with his dark eyes, re-
marked :

" You used to let people into your house
before, without inquiring who they were. Are you
alone?"
"Yes."

"You are? I thought the Little Russian was here.
I saw him to-day. The prison doesn't spoil a man. Stu-
pidity, that's what spoils most of all."

He walked into the room, sat down and said to the
mother :

" Let's have a talk together. I have something to tell
you.- I have a theory ! " There was a significant and
mysterious expression in his face as he said this. It filled
the mother with a sense of foreboding. She sat down
opposite him and waited in mute anxiety for him to
speak.

" Everything costs money ! " he began in his gruff,
heavy voice. " It takes money to be born ; it takes money
to die. Books and leaflets cost money, too. Now, then,
do you know where all this money for the books comes
from?"

" No, I don't know," replied the mother in a low voice,
anticipating danger.

"Nor do I! Another question I've got to ask is:
131

MOTHER

Who writes those books? The educated folks. The
masters ! " Rybin spoke curtly and decisively, his voice
grew gruffer and gruiifer, and his bearded face reddened
as with the strain of exertion. " Now, then, the masters
write the books and distribute them. But the writings
in the books are against these very masters. Now, tell
me, why do they spend their money and their time to
stir up the people against themselves? Eh? "

Nilovna blinked, then opened her eyes wide and ex-
claimed in fright:

"What do you think? Tell me."

" Aha ! " exclaimed Rybin, turning in his chair like a
bear. " There you are ! When I reached that thought
I was seized with a cold shiver, too."

"Now what is it? Tell me! Did you find out
anything?"

"Deception! Fraud! I feel it. It's deception. I
know nothing, but I feel sure there's deception in it.
Yes! The masters are up to some clever trick, and I
want nothing of it. I want the truth. I understand
what it is ; I understand it. But I will not go hand in
hand with the masters. They'll push me to the front
when it suits them, and then walk over my bones as over
a bridge to get where they want to."

At the sound of his morose words, uttered in a stub-
born, thick, and forceful voice, the mother's heart con-
tracted in pain.

" Good Lord ! " she exclaimed in anguish. " Where
is the truth? Can it be that Pavel does not understand?
And all those who come here from the city — ^is it possible
that they don't understand ? " The serious, honest faces
of Yegor, Nikolay Ivanovich, and Sashenka passed be-
fore her mind, and her heart fluttered.

" No, no ! " she said, shaking her head as if to dismiss
132

MOTHMR

the thought. "I can't believe it. They are for truth
and honor and conscience; they have no evil designs;
oh, no!"

"Whom are you talking about?" asked Rybin
thoughtfully.

" About all of them ! Every single one I met. They
are not the people who will traffic in human blood, oh,
no ! " Perspiration burst out on her face, and her fingers
trembled.

" You are not looking in the right place, mother ; look
farther back," said Rybin, drooping his head. " Those
who are directly working in the movement may not know
anything about it themselves. They think it must be so;
they have the truth at heart. But there may be people
behind them who are looking out only for their own
selfish interests. Men won't go against themselves."
And with the firm conviction of a peasant fed on cen-
turies of distrust, he added : " No good will ever come
from the masters ! Take my word for it ! "

" What concoction has your brain put together ? " the
mother asked, again seized with anxious misgiving.

"I?" Rybin looked at her, was silent for a while,
then repeated : " Keep away from the masters ! That's
what!" He grew morosely silent again, and seemed
to shrink within himself.

" I'll go away, mother," he said after a pause. " I
wanted to join the fellows, to work along with them.
I'm fit for the work. I can read and write. I'm perse-
vering and not a fool. And the main thing is, I know
what to say to people. But now I will go. I can't be-
lieve, and therefore I must go. I know, mother, that
the people's souls are foul and besmirched. All live on
envy, all want to gorge themselves; and since there's
little to eat, each seeks to eat the other up."

133

MOTHER

He let his head droop, and remained absorbed in
thought for a while. Finally he said :

" I'll go all by myself through village and hamlet and
stir the people up. It's necessary that the people should
take the matter in their own hands and get to work
themselves. Let them but understand — ^they'll find a way
themselves. And so, I'm going to try to make them un-
derstand. There is no hope for them except in them-
selves ; there's no understanding for them except in their
own understanding ! And that's the truth'! "

" They will seize you ! " said the mother in a low
voice.

"They will seize me, and let me out again. And
then I'll go ahead again ! "

" The peasants themselves will bind you, and you will
be thrown into jail."

" Well, I'll stay in jail for a time, then be released,
and I'll go on again. As for the peasants, they'll bind
me once, twice, and then they will understand that
they ought not to bind me, but listen to me. I'll
tell them : " I don't ask you to believe me ; I want you
just to listen to me ! " And if they listen, they will
believe."

Both the mother and Rybin spoke slowly, as if testing
every word before uttering it.

" There's little joy for me in this, mother," said Ry-
bin. " I have lived here of late, and gobbled up a deal
of stuff. Yes ; I understand some, too ! And now I feel
as if I were burying a child."

" You'll perish, Mikhail Ivanych ! " said the mother,
shaking her head sadly.

His dark, deep eyes looked at her with a questioning,
expectant look. His powerful body bent forward,
propped by his hands resting on the seat of the chair,

134

MOTHER

and his swarthy face seemed pale in the black frame of
his beard.

"Did you hear what Christ said about the seed?
'Thou shalt not die, but rise to life again in the new
ear.' I don't regard myself as near death at all. I am
shrewd. I follow a straighter course than the others.
You can get further that way. Only, you see, I feel sorry
— I don't know why." He fidgeted on his chair, then
slowly rose. " I'll go to the tavern and be with the people
a while. The Little Russian is not coming. Has he got-
ten busy already ? "

" Yes ! " The mother smiled. " No sooner out of
prison than they rush- to their work."

" That's the way it shoul4 be. Tell him about me."

They walked together slowly into the kitchen, and
without looking at each other exchanged brief remarks :

" I'll tell him," she promised.

"Well, good-by!"

"Good-by! When do you quit your job?"

" I have already."

"When are you going?"

" To-morrow, early in the morning. Good-by ! "

He bent his head and crawled off the porch reluc-
tantly, it seemed, and clumsily. The mother stood for a
moment at the door listening to the heavy departing foot-
steps and to the doubts that stirred in her heart. Then
she noiselessly turned away into the room, and drawing
the curtain peered through the window. Black darkness
stood behind, motionless, waiting, gaping, with its flat,
abysmal mouth.

" I live in the night ! " she thought. " In the night
forever ! " She felt a pity for the black-bearded, sedate
peasant. He was so broad and strong — and yet there was
a certain helplessness about him, as about all the people.

I3S

MOTHMR

Presently Andrey came in gay and vivacious. When
the mother told him about Rybin, he exclaimed :

"Going, is he? Well, let him go through the vil-
lages. Let him ring forth the word of truth. Let him
arouse the people. It's hard for him here with us."

"He was talking about the masters. Is there any-
thing in it ? " she inquired circumspectly. " Isn't it pos-
sible that they want to deceive you ? "

"It bothers you, mother, doesn't it?" The Little
Russian laughed. "Oh, mother dear — ^money! If we
only had money ! We are still living on charity. Take,
for instance, Nikolay Ivanych. He earns seventy-five
rubles a month, and gives us fifty ! And others do the
same. And the hungry students send us money some-
times, which they collect penny by penny. And as to the
masters, of course there are different kinds among them.
Some of them will deceive us, and some will leave us;
but the best will stay with us and march with us up to
our holiday." He clapped his hands, and rubbing them
vigorously against each other continued : " But not even
the flight of an eagle's wings will enable anyone to reach
that holiday, so we'll make a little one for the first of
May. It will be jolly."

His words and his vivacity dispelled the alarm ex-

. cited in the mother's heart by Rybin. The Little Russian

walked up and down the room, his feet sounding on the

floor. He rubbed his head with one hand and his chest

with the other, and spoke looking at the floor :

" You know, sometimes you have a wonderful feeling
living in your heart. It seems to you that wherever you
go, all men are comrades; all burn with one and the
same fire ; all are merry ; all are good. Without words
they all understand one another; and no one wants to
hinder or insult the other. No one feels the need of it

136

MUTHMR

All live in unison, but each heart sings its own song.
And the songs flow like brooks into one stream, swelling
into a huge river of bright joys, rolling free and wide
down its course. And when you think that this will be-
that it cannot help being if we so wish it — then the won-
derstruck heart melts with joy. You feel like weeping —
you feel so happy."

He spoke and looked as if he were searching some-
thing within himself. The mother listened and tried not
to stir, so as not to disturb him and interrupt his speech.
She always listened to him with more attention than to
anybody else. He spoke more simply than all the rest,
and his words gripped her heart more powerfully.
Pavel, too, was probably looking to the future. How
could it be otherwise, when one is following such a
course of life? But when he looked into the remote
future it was always by himself ; he never spoke of what
he saw. This Little Russian, however, it seemed to her,
was always there with a part of his heart; the legend
of the future holiday for all upon earth, always sounded
in his speech. This legend rendered the meaning of her
son's life, of his work, and that of all of his comrades,
clear to the mother.

" And when you wake up," continued the Little Rus-
sian, tossing his head and letting his hands drop along-
side his body, " and look around, you see it's all filthy
and cold. AH are tired and angry; human life is all
churned up like mud on a busy highway, and trodden
underfoot ! "

He stopped in front of the mother, and with deep sor-
row in his eyes, and shaking his head, added in a low,
sad voice :

" Yes, it hurts, but you must — you must distrust man ;
you must fear him, and even hate him ! Man is divided,

137

MOTHER

* he is cut in two by life. You'd like only to love him ; but
how is it possible? How can you forgive a man if he
goes against you like a wild beast, does not recognize
that there is a living soul in you, and kicks your face —
a human face ! You must not forgive. It's not for your-
self that you mustn't. I'd stand all the insults as far as
I myself am concerned ; but I don't want to show indul-
gence for insults. I don't want to let them learn on my
back how to beat others ! "

His eyes now sparkled with a cold gleam; he inclined
his head doggedly, and continued in a more resolute
tone:

" I must not forgive anything that is noxious, even
though it does not hurt ! I'm not alone in the world. If
I allow myself to be insulted to-day — maybe I can afford
to laugh at the insult, maybe it doesn't sting me at all
— ^but, having tested his strength on me, the offender will
proceed to flay some one else the next day ! That's why
one is compelled to discriminate between people, to keep
a firm grip on one's heart, and to classify mankind — ^these
belong to me, those are strangers."

The mother thought of the officer and Sashenka, and
said with a sigh :

" What sort of bread can you expect from unbolted
meal?"

"That's it; that's the trouble!" the Little Russian
exclaimed. "You must look with two kinds of eyes;
two hearts throb in your bosom. The one loves all; the
other says : ' Halt ! You mustn't ! ' "

The figure of her husband, somber and ponderous,
like a huge moss-covered stone, now rose in her memory.
She made a mental image for herself of the Little Rus-
sian as married to Natasha, and her son as the husband
of Sashenka.

138

MOTHER

"And why?" asked the Little Russian, warming up.
"It's so plainly evident that it's downright ridiculous —
simply because men don't stand on an equal footing.
Then let's equalize them, put them all in one row ! Let's
divide equally all that's produced by the brains and all
that's made by the hands. Let's not keep one another in
the slavery of fear and envy, in the thraldom of greed
and stupidity ! "

The mother and the Little Russian now began to
carry on such conversations with each other frequently.
He was again taken into the factory. He turned over
all his earnings to the mother, and she took the money
from him with as little fuss as from Pavel. Sometimes
Audrey would suggest with a twinkle in his eyes :

" Shall we read a little, mother, eh? "

She would invariably refuse, playfully but resolutely.
The twinkle in his eyes discomfited her, and she thought
to herself, with a slight feeling of offense : " If you laugh
at me, then why do you ask me to read with you ? "

He noticed that the mother began to ask him with
increasing frequency for the meaning of this or that book
word. She always looked aside when asking for such
information, and spoke in a monotonous tone of indif-
ference. He divined that she was studying by herself in
secret, understood her bashfulness, and ceased to invite
her to read with him. Shortly afterwards she said to him :

"My eyes are getting weak, Andriusha. I guess I
need glasses."

" All right ! Next Sunday I'll take you to a physician
in the city, a friend of mine, and you shall have glasses ! "

She had already been three times in the prison to ask
for a meeting with Pavel, and each time the general of
the gendarmes, a gray old man with purple cheeks and
a huge nose, turned her gently away.
10 139

MOTHER

" In about a week, little mother, not before ! A week
from now we shall see, but at present it's impossible ! "

He was a round, well-fed creature, and somehow re-
minded her of a ripe plum, somewhat spoiled by too long
keeping, and already covered with a downy mold. He
kept constantly picking his small, white teeth with a sharp
yellow toothpick. There was a little smile in his small
greenish eyes, and his voice had a friendly, caressing
sound.

" Polite ! " said the mother to the Little Russian with
a thoughtful air. " Always with a smile on him. I don't
think it's right. When a man is tending to affairs like
these, I don't think he ought to grin."

"Yes, yes. They are so gentle, always smiling. If
they should be told : ' Look here, this man is honest and
wise, he is dangerous to us ; hang him ! ' they would still
smile and hang him, and keep on smiling."

" The one who made the search in our place is the
better of the two; he is simpler. You can see at once
that he is a dog."

" None of them are human beings ; they are used to
stun the people and render them insensible. They are
tools, the means wherewith our kind is rendered more
convenient to the state. They themselves have already
been so fixed that they have become convenient instru-
ments in the hand that governs us. They can do what-
ever they are told to do without thought, without asking
why it is necessary to do it."

At last Vlasova got permission to see her son, and
one Sunday she was sitting modestly in a corner of the
prison office, a low, narrow, dingy apartment, where a
few more people were sitting and waiting for permis'
sion to see their relatives and friends. Evidently it was
not the first time they were here, for they knew one

140

MOTHER

another and in a low voice kept up a lazy, languid con-
versation.

" Have you heard ? " said a stout woman with a wiz-
ened face and a traveling bag on her lap. "At early
mass to-day the church regent again ripped up the ear
of one of the choir boys."

An elderly man in the uniform of a retired soldier
coughed aloud and remarked :

" These choir boys are such loafers ! "

A short, bald, little man with short legs, long arms,
and protruding jaw, ran ofSciously up and down the
room. Without stopping he said in a cracked, agitated
voice :

" The cost of living is getting higher and higher. An
inferior quality of beef, fourteen cents ; bread has again
risen to two and a half."

Now and then prisoners came into the room — gray,
monotonous, with coarse, heavy, leather shoes. They
blinked as they entered; iron chains rattled at the feet
of one of them. The quiet and calm and simplicity all
around produced a strange, uncouth impression. It
seemed as if all had grown accustomed to their situa-
tion. Some sat there quietly, others looked on idly, while
still others seemed to pay their regular visits with a sense
of weariness. The mother's heart quivered with impa-
tience, and she looked with a puzzled air at everything
around her, amazed at the oppressive simplicity of life
in this corner of the world.

Next to Vlasova sat a little old woman with a
wrinkled face, but youthful eyes. She kept her thin neck
turned to listen to the conversation, and looked about on
all sides with a strange expression of eagerness in her
face.

" Whom have you here ? " Vlasova asked softly.
141

MOTHER

"A son, a student," answered the old woman in a
loud, brusque voice. " And you ? "

" A son, also. A workingman."

"What's the name?"

" Vlasov."

"Never heard of him. How long has he been in
prison ? "

" Seven weeks."

" And mine has been in for ten months," said the old
woman, with a strange note of pride in her voice which
did not escape the notice of the mother.

A tall lady dressed in black, with a thin, pale face,
said lingeringly:

" They'll soon put all the decent people in prison.
They can't endure them, they loathe them ! "

" Yes, yes ! " said the little old bald man, speaking
rapidly. "All patience is disappearing. Everybody is
excited ; everybody is clamoring, and prices are mounting
higher and higher. As a consequence the value of men
is depreciating. And there is not a single, conciliatory
voice heard, not one! "

" Perfectly true ! " said the retired military man. " It's
monstrous! What's wanted is a voice, a firm voice to
cry, ' Silence ! ' Yes, that's what we want — a firm
voice ! "

The conversation became more general and animated.
Everybody was in a hurry to give his opinion about life ;
but all spoke in a half-subdued voice, and the mother
noticed a tone of hostility in all, which was new to her.
At home they spoke differently, more intelligibly, more
simply, and more loudly.

The fat warden with a square red beard called out
her name, looked her over from head to foot, and tell-
ing her to follow him, walked off limping. She followed

142

"The mother's heart quivered with impatience."

MOTHMR

him, and felt like pushing him to make him go faster.
Pavel stood in a small room, and on seeing his mother
smiled and put out his hand to her. She grasped it,
laughed, blinked swiftly, and at a loss for words merely
asked softly :

" How are you ? How are you ? "

" Compose yourself, mother." Pavel pressed her
hand.

"It's all right! It's all right!"

" Mother," said the warden, fetching a sigh, " suppose
you move away from each other a bit. Let there be some
distance between you." He yawned aloud.

Pavel asked the mother about her health and about
home. She waited for some other questions, sought them
in her son's eyes, but could not find them. He was calm
as usual, although his face had grown paler, and his eyes
seemed larger.

" Sasha sends you her regards," she said. Pavel's
eyelids quivered and fell. His face became softer and
brightened with a clear, open smile. A poignant bitter-
ness smote the mother's heart.

" Will they let you out soon ? " she inquired in a tone
of sudden injury and agitation. "Why have they put
you in prison? Those papers and pamphlets have ap-
peared in the factory again, anyway."

Pavel's eyes flashed with delight.

" Have they ? When ? Many of them ? "

" It is forbidden to talk about this subject ! " the war-
den lazily announced. "You may talk only of family
matters."

"And isn't this a family matter?" retorted the
mother.

"I don't know. I only know it's forbidden. You
may talk about his wash and underwear and food, but

143

MOTHER

nothing else ! " insisted the warden, his voice, however,
expressing utter indifference.

" All right," said Pavel. " Keep to domestic affairs,
mother. What are you doing?"

She answered boldly, seized with youthful ardor :

" I carry all this to the factory." She paused with a
smile and continued : " Sour soup, gruel, all Marya's
cookery, and other stuff."

Pavel understood. The muscles of his face quivered
with restrained laughter. He ran his fingers through his
hair and said in a tender tone, such as she had never
heard him use:

" My own dear mother ! That's good ! It's good
you've found something to do, so it isn't tedious for you.
You don't feel lonesome, do you, mother ? "

" When the leaflets appeared, they searched me, too,"
she said, not without a certain pride.

" Again on this subject ! " said the warden in an of-
fended tone. " I tell you it's forbidden, it's not allowed.
They have deprived him of liberty so that he shouldn't
know anything about it; and here you are with your
news. You ought to know it's forbidden ! "

"Well, leave it, mother," said Pavel. "Matvey
Ivanovich is a good man. You mustn't do anything to
provoke him. We get along together very well. It's
by chance he's here to-day with us. Usually, it's the
assistant superintendent who is present on such occa-
sions. That's why Matvey Ivanovich is afraid you will
say something you oughtn't to."

" Time's up ! " announced the warden looking at his
watch. " Take your leave ! "

"Well, thank you," said Pavel. "Thank you, my
darling mother ! Don't worry now. They'll let me out
soon."

144

MOTHBR

He embraced her, pressed her warmly to his bosom,
and kissed her. Touched by his endearments, and happy,
she burst into tears.

" Now separate ! " said the warden, and as he walked
off with the mother he mumbled :

"Don't cry! They'll let him out; they'll let every-
body out. It's too crowded here."

At home the mother told the Little Russian of her
conversation with Pavel, and her face wore a broad smile.

" I told him ! Yes, indeed !■ And cleverly, too. He
understood ! " and, heaving a melancholy sigh : " Oh, yes,
he understood ; otherwise he wouldn't have been so tender
and affectionate. He has never been that way before."

"Oh, mother!" the Little Russian laughed. "No
matter what other people may want, a mother always
wants affection. You certainly have a heart plenty big
enough for one man ! "

" But those people ! Just think, Andriusha ! " she
suddenly exclaimed, amazement in her tone. " How used
they get to all this ! Their children are taken away from
them, are thrown into dungeons, and, mind you, it's as
nothing to them ! They come, sit about, wait, and talk.
What do you think of that? If intelligent people are
that way, if they can so easily get accustomed to a thing
like that, then what's to be said about the common
people ? "

"That's natural," said the Little Russian with his
usual smile. " The law after all is not so harsh toward
them as toward us. And they need the law more than
we do. So that when the law hits them on the head,
although they cry out they do not cry very loud. Your
own stick does not fall upon you so heavily. For them
the laws are to some extent a protection, but for us they
are only chains to keep us bound so we can't kick."

145

MOTHER

Three days afterwards in the evening, when the
mother sat at the table knitting stockings and the Little
Russian was reading to her from a book about the revolt
of the Roman slaves, a loud knock was heard at the door.
The Little Russian went to open it and admitted Vye-
sovshchikov with a bundle under his arm, his hat pushed
back on his head, and mud up to his knees.

" I was passing by, and seeing a light in your house,
I dropped in to ask you how you are. I've come straight
from the prison."

He spoke in a strange voice. He seized Vlasov's
hand and wrung it violently as he added : " Pavel sends
you his regards." Irresolutely seating himself in a chair
he scanned the room with his gloomy, suspicious look.

The mother was not fond of him. There was some-
thing in his angular, close-cropped head and in his small
eyes that always scared her; but now she was glad to
see him, and with a broad smile lighting her face she
said in a tender, animated voice :

"How thin you've become! Say, Andriusha, let's
dose him with tea."

" I'm putting up the samovar already ! " the Little
Russian called from the kitchen.

"How is Pavel? Have they let anybody else out
besides yourself ? "

Nikolay bent his head and answered :

" I'm the only one they've let go." He raised his eyes
to the mother's face and said slowly, speaking through
his teeth with ponderous emphasis : " I told them :
' Enough ! Let me go ! Else I'll kill some one here, and
myself, too ! ' So they let me go ! "

"Hm, hm — ye-es," said the mother, recoiling from
him and involuntarily blinking when her gaze met his
sharp, narrow eyes.

146

MOTHER

" And how is Fedya Mazin ? " shouted the Little Rus-
sian from the kitchen. " Writing poetry, is he ? "

" Yes ! I don't understand it," said Nikolay, shaking
his head. "They've put him in a cage and he sings.
There's only one thing I'm sure about, and that is I have
no desire to go home."

"Why should you want to go home? What's there
to attract you ? " said the mother pensively. " It's empty,
there's no fire burning, and it's chilly all over."

Vyesovshchikov sat silent, his eyes screwed up. Tak-
ing a box of cigarettes from his pocket he leisurely lit one
of them, and looking at the gray curl of smoke dissolve
before him he grinned like a big, surly dog.

" Yes, I guess it's cold. And the floor is filled with
frozen cockroaches, and even the mice are frozen, too,
I suppose. Pelagueya Nilovna, will you let me sleep here
to-night, please ? " he asked hoarsely without looking at
her.

"Why, of course, Nikolay! You needn't even ask
it ! " the mother quickly replied. She felt embarrassed
and ill at ease in Nikolay's presence, and did not know
what to speak to him about. But he himself went on to
talk in a strangely broken voice.

"We live in a time when children are ashamed of
their own parents."

" What ! " exclaimed the mother, starting.

He glanced up at her and closed his eyes. His pock-
marked face looked like that of a blind man.

" I say that children have to be ashamed of their par-
ents," he repeated, sighing aloud. " Now, don't you be
afraid. It's not meant for you. Pavel will never be
ashamed of you. But I am ashamed of my father, and
shall never enter his house again. I have no father, no
home ! They have put me under the surveillance of the

MOTHER

police, else I'd go to Siberia. I think a man who won't
spare himself could do a great deal in Siberia. I would
free convicts there and arrange for their escape."

The mother understood, with her ready feelings, what
agony this man must be undergoing, but his pain awoke
no sympathetic response in her.

" Well, of course, if that's the case, then it's better for
you to go," she said, in order not to offend him by
silence.

Audrey came in from the kitchen, and said, smiling:

" Well, are you sermonizing, eh?"

The mother rose and walked away, saying:

" I'm going to get something to eat."

Vyesovshchikov looked at the Little Russian fixedly
and suddenly declared:

" I think that some people ought to be killed off ! "

" Oho ! And pray what for ? " asked the Little Rus-
sian calmly.

" So they cease to be."

" Ahem ! And have you the right to make corpses
out of living people ? "

" Yes, I have."

" Where did you get it from? "

" The people themselves gave it to me."

The Little Russian stood in the middle of the room,
tall and spare, swaying on his legs, with his hands thrust
in his pockets, and looked down on Nikolay, Nikolay sat
firmly in his chair, enveloped in clouds of smoke, with
red spots on his face showing through.

" The people gave it to me ! " he repeated clenching his
fist. " If they kick me I have the right to strike them and
punch their eyes out ! Don't touch me, and I won't touch
you 1 Let me live as I please, and I'll live in peace and
not touch anybody. Maybe I'd prefer to live in the

148

MOTHMR

woods. I'd build myself a cabin in the ravine by the
brook and live there. At any rate, I'd live alone."

" Well, go and live that way, if it pleases you," said
the Little Russian, shrugging his shoulders.

" Now ? " asked Nikolay. He shook his head in nega-
tion and replied, striking his fist on his knee :

" Now it's impossible ! "

" Who's in your way ? "

" The people ! " Vyesovshchikov retorted brusquely.
" I'm hitched to them even unto death. They've hedged
my heart around with hatred and tied me to themselves
with evil. That's a strong tie ! I hate them, and I will
not go away ; no, never ! I'll be in their way. I'll harass
their lives. They are in my way, I'll be in theirs. I'll
answer only for myself, only for myself, and for no one
else. And if my father is a thief "

" Oh ! " said the Little Russian in a low voice, moving
up to Nikolay.

" And as for Isay Gorbov, I'll wring his head off !
You shall see ! "

"What for?" asked the Little Russian in a quiet,
earnest voice.

"He shouldn't be a spy; he shouldn't go about de-
nouncing people. It's through him my father's gone
to the dogs, and it's owing to him that he now is aim-
ing to become a spy," said Vyesovshchikov, looking at
Audrey with a dark, hostile scowl.

" Oh, that's it ! " exclaimed the Little Russian. " And
pray, who'd blame you for that? Fools ! "

" Both the fools and the wise are smeared with the
same oil ! " said Nikolay heavily. " Here are you a wise
fellow, and Pavel, too. And do you mean to say that I
am the same to you as Fedya Mazin or Samoylov, or as
you two are to each other ? Don't lie ! I won't believe

149

MOTHER

you, anyway. You all push me aside to a place apart, all
by myself."

" Your heart is aching, Nikolay ! " said the Little
Russian softly and tenderly sitting down beside him.

" Yes, it's aching, and so is your heart. But your
aches seem nobler to you than mine. We are all scoun-
drels toward one another, that's what I say. And what
have you to say to that? "

He fixed his sharp gaze on Audrey, and waited with
set teeth. His mottled face remained immobile, and a
quiver passed over his thick lips, as if scorched by a
flame.

"I liave nothing to say!" said the Little Russian,
meeting Vyesovshchikov's hostile glance with a bright,
warm, yet melancholy look of his blue eyes. " I know
that to argue with a man at a time when all the wounds
of his heart are bleeding, is only to insult him. I know
it, brother."

" It's impossible to argue with me; I can't," mumbled
Nikolay, lowering his eyes.

" I think," continued the Little Russian, " that each
of us has gone through that, each of us has walked
with bare feet over broken glass, each of us in his dark
hour has gasped for breath as you are now."

" You have nothing to tell me ! " said Vyesovshchikov
slowly. " Nothing! My heart is so — it seems to me
as if wolves were howUng there ! "

"And I don't want to say anything to you. Only
I know that you'll get over this, perhaps not entirely,
but you'll get over it ! " He smiled, and added, tapping
Nikolay on the back: "Why, man, this is a children's
disease, something like measles ! We all suffer from it,
the strong less, the weak more. It comes upon a man
at the period when he has found himself, but does not

ISO

MOTHER

yet understand life, and his own place in life. And when
you do not see your place, and are unable to appraise
your own value, it seems that you are the only, the
inimitable cucumber on the face of the earth, and that
no one can measure, no one can fathom your worth,
and that all are eager only to eat you up. After a
while you'll find out that the hearts in other people's
breasts are no worse than a good part of your own
heart, and you'll begin to feel better. And somewhat
ashamed, too! Why should you climb up to the belfry
tower, when your bell is so small that it can't be heard
in the great peal of the holiday bells? Moreover, you'll
see that in chorus the sound of your bell will be heard,
too, but by itself the old church bells will drown it in
their rumble as a fly is drowned in oil. Do you under-
stand what I am saying? "

" Maybe I understand," Nikolay said, nodding his
head. " Only I don't believe it."

The Little Russian broke into a laugh, jumped to
his feet, and began to run noisily up and down the room.

"I didn't believe it either. Ah, you — ^wagonload!"

"Why a wagonload?" Nikolay asked with a sad
smile, looking at the Little Russian.

"Because there's a resemblance!"

Suddenly Nikolay broke into a loud guffaw, his
mouth opening wide.

"What is it?" the Little Russian asked in surprise,
stopping in front of him.

" It struck me that he'd be a fool who'd want to
insult you!" Nikolay declared, shaking his head.

"Why, how can you insult me?" asked the Little
Russian, shrugging his shoulders.

" I don't know," said Vyesovshchikov, grinning good-
naturedly or perhaps condescendingly. " I only wanted

MOTHER

to say that a man must feel mighty ashamed of himself
after he'd insulted you."

"There now! See where you got to!" laughed the
Little Russian.

" Andriusha ! " the mother called from the kitchen.
"Come get the samovar. It's ready!"

Audrey walked out of the room, and Vyesovshchi-
kov, left alone, looked about, stretched out his foot
sheathed in a coarse, heavy boot, looked at it, bent
down, and felt the stout calf of his legs. Then he raised
one hand to his face, carefully examined the palm, and
turned it around. His short-fingered hand was thick, and
covered with yellowish hair. He waved it in the air,
and arose.

When Andrey brought in the samovar, Vyesovshchi-
kov was standing before the mirror, and greeted him
with these words:

" It's a long time since I've seen my face." Then he
laughed and added: " It's an ugly face I have! "

"What's that to you?" asked Andrey, turning a
curious look upon him.

" Sashenka says the face is the mirror of the heart! "
Nikolay replied, bringing out the words slowly.

" It's not true, though! " the little Russian ejacu-
lated. " She has a nose like a mushroom, cheek bones
like a pair of scissors ; yet her heart is like a bright little
star."

They sat down to drink tea.

Vyesovshchikov took a big potato, heavily salted a
slice of bread, and began to chew slowly and deliberately,
like an ox.

"And how are matters here?" he asked, with his
mouth full.

When Andrey cheerfully recounted to him the growth

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MOTHMR

of the socialist propaganda in the factory, he again grew
morose and remarked dully:

"It takes too long! Too long, entirely! It ought
to go faster! "

The mother regarded him, and was seized with a
feeling of hostility toward this man.

" Life is not a horse ; you can't set it galloping with
a whip," said Andrey.

But Vyesovshchikov stubbornly shook his head, and
proceeded :

" It's slow ! I haven't the patience. What am I to
do? " He opened his arms in a gesture of helplessness,
and waited for a response.

" We all must learn and teach others. That's our
business ! " said Andrey, bending his head.

Vyesovshchikov asked :

"And when are we going to fight?"

"There'll be more than one butchery of us up to
that time, that I know ! " answered the Little Russian
with a smile. " But when we shall be called on to fight,
that I don't know! First, you see, we must equip the
head, and then the hand. That's what I think."

" The heart ! " said Nikolay laconically.

" And the heart, too."

Nikolay became silent, and began to eat again.
From the corner of her eye the mother stealthily re-
garded his broad, pockmarked face, endeavoring to
find something in it to reconcile her to the unwieldy,
square figure of Vyesovshchikov. Her eyebrows flut-
tered whenever she encountered the shooting glance of
his little eyes. Andrey held his head in his hands;
he became restless — he suddenly laughed, and then
abruptly stopped, and began to whistle.

It seemed to the mother that she understood his
IS3

MOTHMR

disquietude. Nikolay sat at the table without saying
anything; and when the Little Russian addressed a
question to him, he answered briefly, with evident re-
luctance.

The little room became too narrow and stifling for
its two occupants, and they glanced, now the one, now
the other, at their guest.

At length Nikolay rose and said: " I'd like to go to
bed. I sat and sat in prison — suddenly they let me go;
I'm off!— I'm tired!"

He went into the kitchen and stirred about for a
while. Then a sudden stillness settled down. The
mother listened for a sound, and whispered to Audrey:
"He has something terrible in his mind!"

" Yes, he's hard to understand! " the Little Russian
assented, shaking his head. " But you go to bed,
mother, I am going to stay and read a while."

She went to the corner where the bed was hidden
from view by chintz curtains. Andrey, sitting at the
table, for a long while Ustened to the warm murmur
of her prayers and sighs. Quickly turning the pages
of the book Andrey nervously rubbed his lips, twitched
his mustache with his long fingers, and scraped his
feet on the floon Ticktock, ticktock went the pendu-
lum of the clock; and the wind moaned as it swept
past the window.

Then the mother's low voice was heard:

"Oh, God! How many people there are in the
world, and each one wails in his own way. Where, then,
are those who feel rejoiced? "

"Soon there will be such, too, soon!" announced
the Little Russian.

154

CHAPTER XIV

^IFE flowed on swiftly. The days were diver-
sified and full of color. Each one brought
with it something new, and the new ceased
to alarm the mother. Strangers came to
the house in the evening more and more
frequently, and they talked with Andrey in subdued
voices with an engrossed air. Late at night they went
out into the darkness, their collars up, their hats thrust
low over their faces, noiselessly, cautiously. All seemed
to feel a feverish excitement, which they kept under
restraint, and had the air of wanting to sing and laugh
if they only had the time. They were all in a per-
petual hurry. All of them — the mocking and the seri-
ous, the frank, jovial youth with effervescing strength,
the thoughtful and quiet — all of them in the eyes of
the mother were identical in the persistent faith that
characterized them; and although each had his own
peculiar cast of countenance, for her all their faces
blended into one thin, composed, resolute face with a
profound expression in its dark eyes, kind yet stem,
like the look in Christ's eyes on his way to Emmaus.

The mother counted them, and mentally gathered
them together into a group around Pavel. In that
throng he became invisible to the eyes of the enemy.

One day a vivacious, curly-haired girl appeared from
the city, bringing some parcel for Andrey; and on leav-
11 155

MOTHER

ing she said to Vlasova, with a gleam in her merry
eyes:

" Good-by, comrade ! "

"Good-by!" the mother answered, restraining a
smile. After seeing the girl to the door, she walked
to the window and, smiling, looked out on the street
to watch her comrade as she trotted away, nimbly rais-
ing and dropping her little feet, fresh as a spring flower
and Hght as a butterfly.

"Comrade!" said the mother when her guest had
disappeared from her view. " Oh, you dear! God grant
you a comrade for all your life! "

She often noticed in all the people from the city
a certain childishness, for which she had the indulgent
smile of an elderly person; but at the same time she
was touched and joyously surprised by their faith, the
profundity of which she began to realize more and more
clearly. Their visions of the triumph of justice cap-
tivated her and warmed her heart. As she listened to
their recital of future victories, she involuntarily sighed
with an unknown sorrow. But what touched her above
all was their simplicity, their beautiful, grand, generous
unconcern for themselves.

She had already come to understand a great deal of
what was said about life. She felt they had in reality
discovered the true source of the people's misfortune,
and it became a habit with her to agree with their
thoughts. But at the bottom of her heart she did not
believe that they could remake the whole of life ac-
cording to their idea, or that they would have strength
enough to gather all the working people about their
fire. Everyone, she knew, wants to fill his stomach
to-day, and no one wants to put his dinner off even
for a week, if he can eat it up at once. Not many would

156

MOTHMR

consent to travel the long and difficult road; and not
all eyes could see at the end the promised kingdom
where all men are brothers. That's why all these good
people, despite their beards and worn faces, seemed to
her mere children.

" My dear ones ! " she thought, shaking her head.

But they all now lived a good, earnest, and sensible
life; they all spoke of the common weal; and in their
desire to teach other people what they knew, they did
not spare themselves. She understood that it was pos-
sible to love such a life, despite its dangers; and with
a sigh she looked back to bygone days in which her
past dragged along flatly and monotonously, a thin,
black thread. Imperceptibly she grew conscious of her
usefulness in this new life — a consciousness that gave
her poise and assurance. She had never before felt
herself necessary to anybody. When she had lived with
her husband, she knew that if she died he would marry
another woman. It was all the ' same to him whether
a dark-haired or a red-haired woman lived with him and
prepared his meals. When Pavel grew up and began
to run about in the street, she saw that she was not
needed by him. But now she felt that she was helping
a good work. It was new to her and pleasant. It set
her head erect on her shoulders.

She considered it her duty to carry the books regu-
larly to the factory. Indeed, she elaborated a number
of devices for escaping detection. The spies, grown
accustomed to her presence on the factory premises,
ceased to pay attention to her. She was searched sev-
eral times, but always the day after the appearance of
the leaflets in the factory. When she had no literature
about her, she knew how to arouse the suspicion of
the guards and spies. They would halt her, and she

157

MOTHER

would pretend to feel insulted, and would remonstrate
with them, and then walk off blushing, proud of her
clever ruse. She began to enjoy the fun of the game.

Vyesovshchikov was not taken back to the factory,
and went to work for a lumberman. The whole day
long he drove about the village with a pair of black
horses pulling planks and beams after them. The
mother saw him almost daily with the horses as they
plodded along the road, their feet trembling under the
strain and dropping heavily upon the ground. They
were both old and bare-boned, their heads shook wearily
and sadly, and their dull, jaded eyes blinked heavily.
Behind them jerkingly trailed a long beam, or a pile
of boards clattering loudly. And by their side Nikolay
trudged along, holding the slackened reins in his hand,
ragged, dirty, with heavy bootS, his hat thrust back,
uncouth as a stump just turned up from the ground.
He, too, shook his head and looked down at his feet,
refusing to see anything. His horses blindly ran into
the people and wagons going the opposite direction.
Angry oaths buzzed about him like hornets, and sin-
ister shouts rent the air. He did not raise his head,
did not answer them, but went on, whistling a sharp,
shrill whistle, mumbling dully to the horses.

Every time that Audrey's comrades gathered at
the mother's house to read pamphlets or the new issue
of the foreign papers, Nikolay came also, sat down in
a corner, and listened in silence for an hour or two.
When the reading was over the young people entered
into long discussions ; but Vyesovshchikov took no part
in the arguments. He remained longer than the rest,
and when alone, face to face with Audrey, he glumly
put to him the question:

"And who is the most to blame? The Czar?"
158

MOTHER

" The one to blame is he who first said : ' This is
mine.' That man has now been dead some several
thousand years, and it's not worth the while to bear
him a grudge," said the Little Russian, jesting. His
eyes, however, had a perturbed expression.

" And how about the rich, and those who stand up
for them ? Are they right? "

The Little Russian clapped his hands to his head;
then pulled his mustache, and spoke for a long time
in simple language about life and about the people. But
from his talk it always appeared as if all the people
were to blame, and this did not satisfy Nikolay. Com-
pressing his thick lips tightly, he shook his head in
demur, and declared that he could not believe it was so,
and that he did not understand it. He left dissatisfied
and gloomy. Once he said:

" No, there must be people to blame ! I'm sure there
are! I tell you, we must plow over the whole of life
like a weedy field, showing no mercy! "

" That's what Isay, the record clerk, once said about
us ! " the mother said. For a while the two were silent.

" Isay? "

" Yes, he's a bad man. He spies after everybody,
fishes about everywhere for information. He has begun
to frequent this street, and peers into our windows."

"Peers into your windows?"

The mother was already in bed and did not see
his face. But she understood that she had said too
much, because the Little Russian hastened to interpose
in order to conciliate Nikolay.

"Let him peer! He has leisure. That's his way of
killing time."

"No hold on!" said Nikolay. "There! He is to
blame!"

159

MOTHER

"To blame for what?" the Little Russian asked
brusquely. " Because he's a fool? "

But Vyesovshchikov did not stop to answer and
walked away.

The Little Russian began to pace up and down the
room, slowly and languidly. He had taken off his boots
as he always did when the mother was in bed in order
not to disturb her. But she was not asleep, and when
Nikolay had left she said anxiously:

" I'm so afraid of that man. He's just like an over-
heated oven. He does not warm things, but scorches
them."

" Yes, yes! " the Little Russian drawled. " He's an
irascible boy. I wouldn't talk to him about Isay,
mother. That fellow Isay is really spying and getting
paid for it, too."

" What's so strange in that? His godfather is a
gendarme," observed the mother.

" Well, Nikolay will give him a dressing. What of
it?" the Little Russian continued uneasily. "See what
hard feelings the rulers of our life have produced in
the rank and file? When such people as Nikolay come
to recognize their wrong and lose their patience, what
will happen then? The sky will be sprinkled with blood,
and the earth will froth and foam with it like the suds
of soap water."

" It's terrible, Andriushal " the mother exclaimed in
a low voice.

" They have swallowed flies, and have to vomit them
now ! " said Andrey after a pause. " And after all,
mother, every drop of their blood that may be shed will
have been washed in seas of the people's tears."

Suddenly he broke into a low laugh and added:

"That's true; but it's no comfort!"
i6o

MOTHMR

Once on a holiday the mother, on returning home
from a store, opened the door of the porch, and re-
mained fixed to the spot, suddenly bathed in the sun-
shine of joy. From the room she heard the sound of
Pavel's voice.

"There she is!" cried the Little Russian.

The mother saw Pavel turn about quickly, and saw
how his face lighted up with a feeling that held out
the promise of something great to her.

"There you are — come home!" she mumbled, stag-
gered by the unexpectedness of the event. She sat down.

He bent down to her with a pale face, little tears
glistened brightly in the corners of his eyes, and his
lips trembled. For a moment he was silent. The mother
looked at him, and was silent also.

The Little Russian, whistling softly, passed by them
with bent head and walked out into the yard.

"Thank you, mother," said Pavel in a deep, low
voice, pressing her hand with his trembling fingers.
"Thank you, my dear, my own mother!"

Rejoiced at the agitated expression of her son's
face and the touching sound of his voice, she stroked
his hair and tried to restrain the palpitation of her heart.
She murmured softly:

" Christ be with you ! What have I done for you ?
It isn't I who have made you what you are. It's you
yourself "

" Thank you for helping our great cause I " he said.
"When a man can call his mother his own in spirit
also — ^that's rare fortune!"

She said nothing, and greedily swallowed his words.
She admired her son as he stood before her so radiant
and so near.

" I was silent, mother dear. I saw that many things
i6i

MOTHMR

in my life hurt you. I was sorry for you, and yet I
could not help it. I was powerless! I thought you
could never get reconciled to us, that you could never
adopt our ideas as yours, but that you would suffer in
silence as you had suffered all your life long. It was
hard."

" Andriusha made me understand many things ! " she
declared, in her desire to turn her son's attention to his
comrade.

" Yes, he told me about you," said Pavel, laughing.

"And Yegor, too! He is a countryman of mine,
you know. Andriusha wanted to teach me to read, also."

"And you got offended, and began to study by
yourself in secret."

" Oh, so he found me out ! " she exclaimed in em-
barrassment. Then troubled by this abundance of joy
which filled her heart she again suggested to Pavel:

" Shan't we call him in ? He went out on purpose,
so as not to disturb us. He has no mother."

"Audrey!" shouted Pavel, opening the door to the
porch. "Where are you?"

" Here. I want to chop some wood."

" Never mind! There's time enough! Come here!"

"All right! I'm coming!"

But he did not come at once; and on entering the
kitchen he said in a housekeeper-like fashion :

" We must tell Nikolay to bring us wood. We have
very little wood left. You see, mother, how well Pavel
looks? Instead of punishing the rebels, the government
only fattens them."

The mother laughed. Her heart was still leaping
with joy. She was fairly intoxicated with happiness.
But a certain, cautious, chary feeling already calleS forth
in her the wish to see her son calm as he always was.

162

MOTHMR

She wanted this first joy in her life to remain fixed in
her heart forever as live and strong as at first. In order
to guard against the diminution of her happiness, she
hastened to hide it, as a fowler secrets some rare bird
that has happened to fall into his hands.

"Let's have dinner! Pasha, haven't you had any-
thing to eat yet?" she asked with anxious haste.

" No. I learned yesterday from the warden that I
was to be released, and I couldn't eat or drink any-
thing to-day."

"The first person I met here was Sizov," Pavel
communicated to Audrey. " He caught sight of me and
crossed the street to greet me. I told him that he
ought to be more careful now, as I was a dangerous
man under the surveillance of the police. But he said:
'Never mind!' and you ought to have heard him in-
quire about his nephew ! ' Did Fedor conduct himself
properly in prison?' I wanted to know what is meant
by proper behavior in prison, and he declared: 'Well,
did he blab anything he shouldn't have against his
comrades?' And when I told him that Fedya was an
honest and wise young man, he stroked his beard and
declared proudly: 'We, the Sizovs, have no trash in
our family.' "

"He's a brainy old man! " said the Little Russian,
nodding his head. " We often have talks with him.
He's a fine peasant. Will they let Fedya out soon?"

" Yes, one of these days, I suppose. They'll let out
all, I think. They have no evidence except Isay's, and
what can he say ? "

The mother walked up and down the room, and
looked at her son. Andrey stood at the window with
his hands clasped behind his back, listening to Pavel's
narrative. Pavel also paced up and down the room. His

163

MOTHMR

beard had grown, and small ringlets of thin, dark hair
curled in a dense growth around his cheeks, softening
the swarthy color of his face. His dark eyes had their
stern expression.

" Sit down 1 " said the mother, serving a hot dish.

At dinner Audrey told Pavel about Rybin. When
he had concluded Pavel exclaimed regretfully :

" If I had been home, I would not have let him
go that way. What did he take along with him? A
feeling of discontent and a muddle in his head! "

"Well," said Audrey, laughing, "when a man's
grown to the age of forty and has fought so long with
the bears in his heart, it's hard to make him over."

Pavel looked at him sternly and asked:

" Do you think it's impossible for enlightenment to
destroy all the rubbish that's been crammed into a man's
brains?"

" Don't fly up into the air at once, Pavel! Your
flight will knock you up against the belfry tower and
break your wings," said the Little Russian in admo-
nition.

And they started one of those discussions in which
words were used that were unintelligible to the mother.
The dinner was already at an end, but they still con-
tinued a vehement debate, flinging at each other veritable
rattling hailstones of big words. Sometimes their lan-
guage was simpler:

" We must keep straight on our path, turning neither
to the right nor to the left! " Pavel asserted firmly.

" And run headlong into millions of people who will
regard us as their enemies ! "

"You can't avoid that!"

" And what, my dear sir, becomes of your enlighten-
ment ? "

164

MOTHER

The mother Hstened to the dispute, and understood
that Pavel did not care for the peasants, but that the
Little Russian stood up for them, and tried to show
that the peasants, too, must be taught to comprehend
the good. She understood Audrey better, and he seemed
to her to be in the right; but every time he spoke she
waited with strained ears and bated breath for her son's
answer to find out whether the Little Russian had
oiTended Pavel. But although they shouted at the top
of their voices, they gave each other no offense.

Occasionally the mother asked :

" Is it so, Pavel? "

And he answered with a smile :

" Yes, it's so."

" Say, my dear sir," the Little Russian said with a
good-natured sneer, " you have eaten well, but you have
chewed your food up badly, and a piece has remained
sticking in your throat. You had better gargle."

" Don't go fooling now ! " said Pavel.

" I am as solemn as a funeral."

The mother laughed quietly and shook her head.

165

CHAPTER XV

'PRING was rapidly drawing near; the
snow melted and laid bare the mud and
the soot of the factory chimneys. Mud,
mud! Wherever the villagers looked —
mud! Every day more mud! The entire
village seemed unwashed and dressed in rags and tatters.
During the day the water dripped monotonously from
the roofs, and damp, weary exhalations emanated from
the gray walls of the houses. Toward night whitish
icicles glistened everywhere in dim outline. The sun
appeared in the heavens more frequently, and the brooks
began to murmur hesitatingly on their way to the marsh.
At noon the throbbing song of spring hopes hung trem-
blingly and caressingly over the village.

They were preparing to celebrate the first of May.
Leaflets appeared in the factory explaining the signifi-
cance of this holiday, and even the young men not
affected by the propaganda said, as they read them:
" Yes, we must arrange a holiday! "
Vyesovshchikov exclaimed with a sullen grin:
" It's time ! Time we stopped playing hide and seek I "
Fedya Mazin was in high spirits. He had grown very
thin. With his nervous, jerky gestures, and the trepida-
tion in his speech, he was like a caged lark. He was
always with Yakob Somov, taciturn and serious beyond
his years.

Samoylov, who had grown still redder in prison,
i66

MOTHER

Vasily Gusev, curly-haired Dragunov, and a number of
others argued that it was necessary to come out armed,
but Pavel and the Little Russian, Somov, and others
said it was not.

Yegor always came tired, perspiring, short of breath,
but always joking.

" The work of changing the present order of things,
comrades, is a great work, but in order to advance it
more rapidly, I must buy myself a pair of boots ! " he
said, pointing to his wet, torn shoes. " My overshoes,
too, are torn beyond the hope of redemption, and I get
my feet wet every day. I have no intention of migrat-
ing from the earth even to the nearest planet before
we have publicly and openly renounced the old order
of things; and I am therefore absolutely opposed to
comrade Samoylov's motion for an armed demonstra-
tion. I amend the motion to read that I be armed
with a pair of strong boots, inasmuch as I am pro-
foundly convinced that this will be of greater service
for the ultimate triumph of socialism than even a grand
exhibition of fisticuffs and black eyes ! "

In the same playfully pretentious language, he told
the workingmen the story of how in various foreign
countries the people strove to lighten the burden of
their lives. The mother loved to listen to his tales,
and carried away a strange impression from them. She
conceived the shrewdest enemies of the people, those
who deceived them most frequently and most cruelly,
as little, big-bellied, red-faced creatures, unprincipled
and greedy, cunning and heartless. When life was hard
for them under the domination of the czars, they would
incite the common people against the ruler; and when
the people arose and wrested the power from him, these
little creatures got it into their own hands by deceit,

i6;r

MOTHER

and drove the people off to their holes; and if the
people remonstrated, they killed them by the hundreds
and thousands.

Once she summoned up courage and told him of
the picture she had formed of life from his tales, and
asked him:

" Is it so, Yegor Ivanovich ? "

He burst into a guffaw, turned up his eyes, gasped
for breath, and rubbed his chest.

"Exactly, granny! You caught the idea to a dot!
Yes, yes! You've placed some ornaments on the canvas
of history, you've added some flourishes, but that does
not interfere with the correctness of the whole. It's
these very little, pot-bellied creatures who are the chief
sinners and deceivers and the most poisonous insects
that harass the human race. The Frenchmen call them
' bourgeois.' Remember that word, dear granny — bour-
geoisl Brr! How they chew us and grind us and suck
the life out of us ! "

" The rich, you mean? "

" Yes, the rich. And that's their misfortune. You
see, if you keep adding copper bit by bit to a child's
food, you prevent the growth of its bones, and he'll be
a dwarf; and. if from his youth up you poison a man with
gold, you deaden his soul."

Once, speaking about Yegor, Pavel said:

" Do you know, Audrey, the people whose hearts are
always aching are the ones who joke most?"

The Little Russian was silent a while, and then an-
swered, blinking his eyes:

" No, that's not true. If it were, then the whole of
Russia would split its sides with laughter."

Natasha made her appearance again. She, too, had
been in prison, in another city, but she had not changed.

i68

MOTHMR

The mother noticed that in her presence the Little Rus-
sian grew more cheerful, was full of jokes, poked fun at
everybody, and kept her laughing merrily. But after she
had left he would whistle his endless songs sadly, and
pace up and down the room for a long time, wearily
dragging his feet along the floor.

Sashenka came running in frequently, always gloomy,
always in haste, and for some reason more and more
angular and stiff. Once when Pavel accompanied her out
onto the porch, the mother overheard their abrupt con-
versation.

" Will you carry the banner? " the girl asked in a low
voice.

" Yes."

" Is it settled? "

" Yes, it's my right."

"To prison again?" Pavel was silent. "Is it not
possible for you — " She stopped.

"What?"

" To give it up to somebody else ? "

"No!" he said aloud.

" Think of it ! You're a man of such influence ; you
are so much liked — you and Nakhodka are the two fore-
most revolutionary workers here. Think how much you
could accomplish for the cause of freedom! You know
that for this they'll send you ofif far, far, and for a long
time!"

Nilovna thought she heard in the girl's voice the
familiar sound of fear and anguish, and her words
fell upon the mother's heart like heavy, icy drops of
water.

" No, I have made up my mind. Nothing can make
me give it up! "

" Not even if I beg you — if I "

169

MOTHER

Pavel suddenly began to speak rapidly with a pe-
culiar sternness.

" You ought not to speak that way. Why you? You
ought not! "

" I am a human being! " she said in an undertone.

"A good human being, too!" he said also in an
undertone, and in a peculiar voice, as if unable to catch
his breath. " You are a dear human being to me, yes!
And that's why — ^why you mustn't talk that way! "

" Good-by! " said the girl.

The mother heard the sound of her departing foot-
steps, and knew that she was walking away very fast,
nay, almost running. Pavel followed her into the yard.

A heavy oppressive fear fell like a load on the moth-
er's breast. She did not understand what they had been
talking about, but she felt that a new misfortune was
in store for her, a great and sad misfortune. And her
thoughts halted at the question, " What does he want
to do ? " Her thoughts halted, and were driven into her
brain like a nail. She stood in the kitchen by the oven,
and looked through the window into the profound, starry
heaven.

Pavel walked in from the yard with Audrey, and the
Little Russian said, shaking his head:

" Oh, Isay, Isay! What's to be done with him?"

" We must advise him to give up his project," said
Pavel glumly.

" Then he'll hand over those who speak to him to the
authorities," said the Little Russian, flinging his hat
away in a corner.

" Pasha, what do you want to do? " asked the mother,
drooping her head.

"When? Now?"

" The first of May— the first of May."
170

MOTHBR

" Aha! " exclaimed Pavel, lowering his voice. " You
heard! I am going to carry our banner. I will march
with it at the head of the procession. I suppose they'll
put me in prison for it again."

The mother's eyes began to burn. An unpleasant,
dry feeling came into her mouth. Pavel took her hand
and stroked it.

"I must do it! Please understand me! It is my
happiness ! "

" I'm not saying anything," she answered, slowly
raising her head; but when her eyes met the resolute
gleam in his, she again lowered it. He released her hand,
and with a sigh said reproachfully :

" You oughtn't to be grieved. You ought to feel
rejoiced. When are we going to have mothers who will
rejoice in sending their children even to death ? "

"Hopp! Hopp! " mumbled the Little Russian.
" How you gallop away! "

"Why; do I say anything to you?" the mother re-
peated. " I don't interfere with you. And if I'm sorry
for you — well, that's a mother's way."

Pavel drew away from her, and she heard his sharp,
harsh words:

" There is a love that interferes with a man's very
life."

She began to tremble, and fearing that he might deal
another blow at her heart by saying something stern,
she rejoined quickly:

"Don't, Pasha! Why should you? I understand.
You can't act otherwise, you must do it for your com-
rades."

" No! " he replied. " I am doing it for myself. For
their sake I can go without carrying the banner, but
I'm going to do it!"

13 . 171

MOTHER

Andrey stationed himself in the doorway. It was
too low for him, and he had to bend his knees oddly.
He stood there as in a frame, one shoulder leaning
against the jamb, his head and other shoulder thrust
forward.

" I wish you would stop palavering, my dear sir,"
he said with a frown, fixing his protuberant eyes on
Pavel's face. He looked like a lizard in the crevice of
a stone wall.

The mother was overcome with a desire to weep, but
she did not want her son to see her tears, and suddenly
mumbled: "Oh, dear! — I forgot — " and walked out to
the porch. There, her head in a corner, she wept noise-
lessly; and her copious tears weakened her, as though
blood oozed from her heart along with them.

Through the door standing ajar the hollow sound
of disputing voices reached her ear.

" Well, do you admire yourself for having tortured
her? "

" You have no right to speak like that ! " shouted
Pavel.

" A fine comrade I'd be to you if I kept quiet
when I see you making a fool of yourself. Why did
you say all that to your mother? "

" A man must always speak firmly and without
equivocation. He must be clear and definite when he
says ' Yes.' He must be clear and definite when he says
' No.' "

" To her — to her must you speak that way? "

"To everybody! I want no love, I want no friend-
ship which gets between my feet and holds me back."

"Bravo! You're a hero! Go say all this to Sa-
shenka. You should have said that to her."

"I have!"

172

MOTHER

"You have! The way you spoke to your mother?
You have not! To her you spoke softly; you spoke
gently and tenderly to her. I did not hear you, but
I know it! But you trot out your heroism before your
mother. Of course ! Your heroism is not worth a cent."

Vlasova began to wipe the tears from her face in
haste. For fear a serious quarrel should break out
between the Little Russian and Pavel, she quickly opened
the door and entered the kitchen, shivering, terrified, and
distressed.

"Ugh! How cold! And it's spring, too ! "

She aimlessly removed various things in the kitchen
from one place to another, and in order to drown the
subdued voices in the room, she continued in a louder
voice:

" Everything's changed. People have grown hotter
and the weather colder. At this time of the year it
used to get warm; the sky would clear, and the sun
would be out."

Silence ensued in the room. The mother stood wait-
ing in the middle of the floor.

"Did you hear?" came the low sound of the Little
Russian's voice. " You must understand it, the devil
take it! That's richer than yours."

" Will you have some tea? " the mother called with
a trembling voice, and without waiting for an answer
she exclaimed, in order to excuse the tremor in her
voice :

"How cold I am!"

Pavel came up slowly to her, looking at her from
the corners of his eyes, a guilty smile quivering on his
lips.

" Forgive me, mother! " he said softly. " I am still
a boy, a fool."

173

MOTHER

"You mustn't hurt me!" she cried in a sorrowful
voice, pressing his head to her bosom. " Say nothing!
God be with you. Your Hfe is your own! But don't
wound my heart. How can a mother help sorrowing for
her son? Impossible! I am sorry for all of you. You
are all dear to me as my own flesh and blood; you are
all such good people! And who will be sorry for you
if I am not? You go and others follow you. They
have all left everything behind them, Pasha, and gone
into this thing. It's just like a sacred procession."

A great ardent thought burned in her bosom, ani-
mating her heart with an exalted feeling of sad, tor-
menting joy; but she could find no words, and she
waved her hands with the pang of muteness. She looked
into her son's face with eyes in which a bright, sharp
pain had lit its fires.

"Very well, mother! Forgive me. I see all now!"
he muttered, lowering his head. Glancing at her with
a light smile, he added, embarrassed but happy : " I will
not forget this, mother, upon my word."

She pushed him from her, and looking into the
room she said to Audrey in a good-natured tone of
entreaty :

" Andriusha, please don't you shout at him so ! Of
course, you are older than he, and so you "

The Little Russian was standing with his back toward
her. He sang out drolly without turning around to face
her:

"Oh, oh, oh! I'll bawl at him, be sure! And I'll
beat him some day, too."

She walked up slowly to him, with outstretched hand,
and said:

" My dear, dear man ! "

The Little Russian turned around, bent his head
174

MOTHMR

like an ox, and folding his hands behind his back walked
past her into the kitchen. Thence his voice issued in
a tone of mock sullenness:

"You had better go away, Pavel, so I shan't bite
your head off! I am only joking, mother; don't be-
lieve it! I want to prepare the samovar. What coals
these are! Wet, the devil take them!"

He became silent, and when the mother walked into
the kitchen he was sitting on the floor, blowing the
coals in the samovar. Without looking at her the Little
Russian began again:

"Yes, mother, don't be afraid. I won't touch him.
You know, I'm a good-natured chap, soft as a stewed
turnip. And then — you hero out there, don't listen —
I love him! But I don't like the waistcoat he wears.
You see, he has put on a new waistcoat, and he likes
it very much, so he goes strutting about, and pushes
everybody, crying: * See, see what a waistcoat I have
on!' It's true, it's a fine waistcoat. But what's the
use of pushing people? It's hot enough for us with-
out it."

Pavel smiled and asked:

" How long do you mean to keep up your jabbering?
You gave me one thrashing with your tongue. That's
enough! "

Sitting on the floor, the Little Russian spread his
legs around the samovar, and regarded Pavel. The
mother stood at the door, and fixed a sad, affectiortate
gaze at Audrey's long, bent neck and the round back
of his head. He threw his body back, supporting him-
self with his hands on the floor, looked at the mother
and at the son with his slightly reddened and blink-
ing eyes, and said in a low, hearty voice :

" You are good people, yes, you are! "
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MOTHER

Pavel bent down and grasped his hand.

" Don't pull my hand," said the Little Russian
gruffly. " You'll let go and I'll fall. Go away! "

" Why are you so shy? " the mother said pensively.
"You'd better embrace and kiss. Press hard, hard!"

" Do you want to? " asked Pavel softly.

" We — ell, why not? " answered the Little Russian,
rising.

Pavel dropped on his knees, and grasping each other
firmly, they sank for a moment into each other's em-
brace— two bodies and one soul passionately and evenly
burning with a profound feeling of friendship.

Tears ran down the mother's face, but this time they
were easy tears. Drying them she said in embarrass-
ment:

" A woman likes to cry. She cries when she is in
sorrow; she cries when she is in joy! "

The Little Russian pushed Pavel away, and with a
light movement, also wiping his eyes with his fingers,
he said:

" Enough! When the calves have had their frolic,
they must go to the shambles. What beastly coal this
is! I blew and blew on it, and got some of the dust
in my eyes."

Pavel sat at the window with bent head, and said
mildly:

" You needn't be ashamed of such tears."

The mother walked up to him, and sat down be-
side him. Her heart was wrapped in a soft, warm,
daring feeling. She felt sad, but pleasant and at ease.

" It's all the same ! " she thought, stroking her son's
hand. " It can't be helped; it must be so! "

She recalled other such commonplace words, to which
she had been accustomed for a long time; but they did

176

MOTHER

not give adequate expression to all she had lived through
that moment.

" I'll put the dishes on the table ; you stay where
you are, mother," said the Little Russian, rising from
the floor, and going into the room. " Rest a while.
Your heart has been worn out with such blows ! "

And from the room his singing voice, raised to a
higher pitch, was heard.

" It's not a nice thing to boast of, yet I must say
we tasted the right life just now, real, human, loving
life. It does us good."

" Yes," said Pavel, looking at the mother.

" It's all different now," she returned. " The sor-
row is different, and the joy is different. I do not
know anything, of course! I do not understand what it
is I live by — and I can't express my feelings in words ! "

" This is the way it ought to be ! " said the Little Rus-
sian, returning. " Because, mark you, mother dear, a
new heart is coming into existence, a new heart is grow-
ing up in life. All hearts are smitten in the conflict of 'X
interests, all are consumed with a blind greed, eaten up
with envy, stricken, wounded, and dripping with filth,
falsehood, and cowardice. All people are sick ; they are
afraid to live ; they wander about as in a mist. Everyone
feels only his own toothache. But lo, and behold ! Here
is a Man coming and illuminating life with the light of
reason, and he shouts: 'Oh, ho! you straying roaches!
It's time, high time, for you to understand that all your
interests are one, that everyone has the need to live,
everyone has the desire to grow ! ' The Man who shouts
this is alone, and therefore he cries aloud ; he needs com-
rades, he feels dreary in his loneliness, dreary and cold. /
And at his call the stanch hearts unite into one great,
strong heart, deep and sensitive as a silver bell not yet

177

MOTHMR

cast. And hark! This bell rings forth the message:

C' Men of all countries, unite into one family ! Love is
the mother of life, not hate ! ' My brothers ! I hear this
message sounding through the world ! "

" And I do, too ! " cried Pavel.

The mother compressed her lips to keep them from
trembling, and shut her eyes tight so as not to cry.

" When I lie in bed at night or am out walking alone
—everywhere I hear this sound, and my heart rejoices.
And the earth, too — I know it — weary of injustice and
sorrow, rings out like a bell, responding to the call, and
trembles benignly, greeting the new sun arising in the
breast of Man."

Pavel rose, lifted his hand, and was about to say
something, but the mother took his other hand, and pull-
ing him down whispered in his ear:

" Don't disturb him ! "

" Do you know? " said the Little Russian, standing in
the doorway, his eyes aglow with a bright flame, " there
is still much suffering in store for the people, much of
their blood will yet flow, squeezed out by the hands of
greed ; but all that — all my suffering, all my blood, is a
small price for that which is already stirring in my breast,
in my mind, in the marrow of my bones ! I am already
rich, as a star is rich in golden rays. And I will bear all,
I will suffer all, because there is within me a joy which
no one, which nothing can ever stifle ! In this joy there
is a world of strength ! "

They drank tea and sat around the table until mid-
night, and conversed heart to heart and harmoniously
about life, about people, and about the future.

i;«

CHAPTER XVI

'HENEVER a thought was clear to the
mother, she would find confirmation of the
idea by drawing upon some of her rude,
coarse experiences. She now felt as on that
day when her father said to her roughly :
"What are you making a wry face about? A fool
has been found who wants to marry you. Marry him!
All girls must get husbands; all women must bear chil-
dren, and all children become a burden to their parents ! "
After these words she saw before her an unavoidable
path running for some inexplicable reason through a
dark, dreary waste. Thus it was at the present moment.
In anticipation of a new approaching misfortune, she
uttered speechless words, addressing some imaginary
person.

This lightened her mute pain, which reverberated in
her heart like a tight chord.

The next day, early in the morning, very soon after
Pavel and Andrey had left, Korsunova knocked at the
door alarmingly, and called out hastily :
" Isay is killed ! Come, quick ! "
The mother trembled ; the name of the assassin flashed
through her mind.

"Who did it?" she asked curtly, throwing a shawl
over her shoulders.

" The man's not sitting out there mourning over Isay.
He knocked him down and fled ! "

179

MOTHER

On the street Marya said :

" Now they'll begin to rummage about again and look
for the murderer. It's a good thing your folks were at
home last night. I can bear witness to that. I walked
past here after midnight and glanced into the window,
and saw all of you sitting around the table."

"What are you talking about, Marya? Why, who
could dream of such a thing about them?" the mother
ejaculated in fright.

"Well, who killed him? Some one from among
your people, of course ! " said Korsunova, regarding the
idea as a matter to be taken for granted. " Everybody
knows he spied on them."

The mother stopped to fetch breath, and put her hand
to her bosom.

"What are you going on that way for? Don't be
afraid ! Whoever it is will reap the harvest of his own
rashness. Let's go quick, or else they'll take him away ! "

The mother walked on without askmg herself why she
went, and shaken by the thought of Vyesovshchikov.

" There — ^he's done it ! " Her mind was held fast by
the one idea.

Not far from the factory walls, on the grounds of a
building recently burned down, a crowd was gathered,
tramping down the coal and stirring up ash dust. It
hummed and buzzed like a swarm of bees. There were
many women in the crowd, even more children, and store-
keepers, tavern waiters, policemen, and the gendarme Pet-
lin, a tall old man with a woolly, silvery beard, and deco-
rations on his breast.

Isay half reclined on the ground, his back resting
against a burned joist, his bare head hanging over his
right shoulder, his right hand in his trousers' pocket,
and the fingers of his left hand clutching the soil.

i8o

MOTHER

The mother looked at Isay's face. One eye, wide
open, had its dim glance fixed upon his hat lying between
his lazily outstretched legs. His mouth was half open
in astonishment, his little shriveled body, with its pointed
head and bony face, seemed to be resting. The mother
crossed herself and heaved a sigh. He had been repul-
sive to her when alive, but now she felt a mild pity for
him.

" No blood ! " some one remarked in an undertone.
" He was evidently knocked down with a fist blow."

A stout woman, tugging at the gendarme's hand,
asked :

"Maybe he is still alive?"

" Go away ! " the gendarme shouted not very loudly,
withdrawing his hand.

" The doctor was here and said it was all over," some-
body said to the woman.

A sarcastic, malicious voice cried aloud :

"They've choked up a denouncer's mouth. Serves
him right ! "

The gendarme pushed aside the women, who were
crowded close about him, and asked in a threatening tone :

" Who was that ? Who made that remark ? "

The people scattered before him as he thrust them
aside. A number took quickly to their heels, and some
one in the crowd broke into a mocking laugh.

The mother went home.

" No one is sorry," she thought. The broad figure of
Nikolay stood before her like a shadow, his narrow eyes
had a cold, cruel look, and he wrung his right hand as if
it had been hurt.

When Pavel and Andrey came to dinner, her first
question was:

" Well ? Did they arrest anybody for Isay's murder ? "
i8i

MOTHER

" We haven't heard anything about it," answered the
Little Russian.

She saw that they were both downhearted and sullen.

"Nothing is said about Nikolay?" the mother ques-
tioned again in a low voice.

Pavel fixed his stern eyes on the mother, and said
distinctly :

"No, there is no talk of him. He is not even
thought of in connection with this affair. He is away.
He went off on the river yesterday, and hasn't returned
yet. I inquired for him."

" Thank God ! " said the mother with a sigh of relief.
" Thank God ! "

The Little Russian looked at her, and drooped his
head.

" He lies there," the mother recounted pensively, " and
looks as though he were surprised ; that's the way his face
looks. And no one pities him; no one bestows a good
word on him. He is such a tiny bit of a fellow, such a
wretched-looking thing," like a bit of broken china. It
seems as if he had slipped on something and fallen, and
there he lies ! "

At dinner Pavel suddenly dropped his spoon and ex-
claimed :

" That's what I don't understand ! "

" What ? " asked the Little Russian, who had been sit-
ting at the table dismal and silent.

"To kill anything living because one wants to eat,
that's ugly enough. To kill a beast — a beast of prey —
that I can understand. I think I myself could kill a man
who had turned into a beast preying upon mankind. But
to kill such a disgusting, pitiful creature — I don't under-
stand how anyone could lift his hand for an act like
that!"

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MOTHER

The Little Russian raised his shoulders and dropped
them again ; then said :

" He was no less noxious than a beast."

" I know."

" We kill a mosquito for sucking just a tiny bit of our
blood," the Little Russian added in a low voice.

" Well, yes, I am not saying anything about that. I
only mean to say it's so disgusting."

" What can you do ? " returned Audrey with another
shrug of his shoulders.

After a long pause Pavel asked :

" Could you kill a fellow like that? "

The Little Russian regarded him with his round eyes,
threw a glance at the mother, and said sadly, but firmly :

" For myself, I wouldn't touch a living thing. But
for comrades, for the cause, I am capable of everything.
I'd even kill. I'd kill my own son."

" Oh, Andriusha ! " the mother exclaimed under her
breath.

He smiled and said :

" It can't be helped ! Such is our life ! "

" Ye-es," Pavel drawled. " Such is our life."

With sudden excitation, as if obeying some impulse
from within, Audrey arose, waved his hands, and said:

"How can a man help it? It so happens that we
sometimes must abhor a certain person in order to hasten
the time when it will be possible only to take delight in
one another. You must destroy those who hinder the
progress of life, who sell human beings for money in
order to buy quiet or esteem for themselves. If a Judas
stands in the way of honest people, lying in wait to
betray them, I should be a Judas myself if I did not de-
stroy him. It's sinful, you say? And do they, these
masters of life, do they have the right to keep soldiers

183

MOTHBR

and executioners, public houses and prisons, places of
penal servitude, and all that vile abomination by which
they hold themselves in quiet security and in comfort?
If it happens sometimes that I am compelled to take their
stick into my own hands, what am I to do then? Why,
I am going to take it, of course. I will not decline. They
kill us out by the tens and hundreds. That gives me the
right to raise my hand and level it against one of the
enemy, against that one of their number who comes
closest to me, and makes himself more directly noxious to
the work of my life than the others. This is logic; but
I go against logic for once. I do not need your logic
now. I know that their blood can bring no results, I
know that their blood is barren, fruitless ! Truth grows
well only on the soil irrigated with the copious rain of our
own blood, and their putrid blood goes to waste, without
a trace left. I know it ! But I take the sin upon myself.
I'll kill, if I see a need for it ! I speak only for myself,
mind you. My crime dies with me. It will not remain
a blot upon the future. It will sully no one but myself
— no one but myself."

He walked to and fro in the room, waving his hands
in front of him, as if he were cutting something in the
air out of his way. The mother looked at him with an
expression of melancholy and alarm. She felt as though
something had hit him, and that he was pained. The
dangerous thoughts about murder left her. If Vyesov-
shchikov had not killed Isay, none of Pavel's comrades
could have done the deed. Pavel listened to the Little
Russian with drooping head, and Audrey stubbornly con-
tinued in a forceful tone-:

" In your forward march it sometimes chances that
you must go against your very own self. You must be
able to give up everything — your heart and all. To give

184

MOTHER

your life, to die for the cause — ^that's simple. Give more !
Give that which is dearer to you than your life! Then
you will see that grow with a vigorous growth which
is dearest to you — ^your truth ! "

He stopped in the middle of the room, his face grown
pale and his eyes half closed. Raising his hand and shak-
ing it, he began slowly in a solemn tone of assurance with
faith and with strength :

"There will come a time, I know, when people will
take delight in one another, when each will be like a star
to the other, and when each will listen to his fellow as
to music. The free men will walk upon the earth, men
great in their freedom. They will walk with open hearts,
and the heart of each will be pure of envy and greed,
and therefore all mankind will be without malice, and
there will be nothing to divorce the heart from reason.
Then life will be one great service to man! His figure
will be raised to lofty heights — for to free men all heights
are attainable. Then we shall live in truth and freedom
and in beauty, and those will be accounted the best who
will the more widely embrace the world with their hearts,
and whose love of it will be the profoundest ; those will
be the best who will be the freest; for in them is the
greatest beauty. Then will life be great, and the people
will be great who live that life."

He ceased and straightened himself. Then swinging
to and fro like the tongue of a bell, he added in a reso-
nant voice that seemed to issue from the depths of his
breast :

" So for the sake of this life I am prepared for every-
thing! I will tear my heart out, if necessary, and will
trample it with my own feet ! "

His face quivered and stiffened with excitement, and
great, heavy tears rolled down one after the other.

185

MOTHMR

Pavel raised his head and looked at him with a pale
face and wide-open eyes. The mother raised herself a
little over the table with a feeling that something great
was growing and impending.

" What is the matter with you, Andrey ? " Pavel asked
softly.

The Little Russian shook his head, stretched him-
self like a violin string, and said, looking at the
mother :

" I struck Isay."

She rose, and quickly walked up to him, all in a
tremble, and seized his hands. He tried to free his right
hand, but she held it firmly in her grasp and whispered
hotly :

" My dear, my own, hush ! It's nothing — it's nothing
— nothing, Pasha ! Andriushenka — oh, what a calamity !
You sufferer ! My darling heart ! "

" Wait, mother," the Little Russian muttered hoarse-
ly. " I'll tell you how it happened."

" Don't ! " she whispered, looking at him with tears
in her eyes. " Don't, Andriusha ! It isn't our business.
It's God's affair!"

Pavel came up to him slowly, looking at his com-
rade with moist eyes. He was pale, and his lips trembled.
With a strange smile he said softly and slowly:

" Come, give me your hand, Andrey. I want to shake
hands with you. Upon my word, I understand how hard
it is for you ! "

" Wait ! " said the Little Russian without looking at
them, shaking his head, and tearing himself away from
their grasp. When he succeeded in freeing his right hand
from the mother's, Pavel caught it, pressing it vigorously
and wringing it.

"And you mean to tell me you killed that man?"
i86

MOTHMR

said the mother. " No, you didn't do it ! If I saw it with
my own eyes I wouldn't believe it."

" Stop, Andrey ! Mother is right. This thing is be-
yond our judgment."

With one hand pressing Andrey's, Pavel laid the
other on his shoulder, as if wishing to stop the tremor
in his tall body. The Little Russian bent his head down
toward him, and said in a broken, mournful voice :

" I didn't want to do it, you know, Pavel. It hap-
pened when you walked ahead, and I remained behind
with Ivan Gusev. Isay came from around a corner and
stopped to look at us, and smiled at us. Ivan walked
off home, and I went on toward the factory — Isay at my
side!" Andrey stopped, heaved a deep sigh, and con-
tinued : " No one ever insulted me in such an ugly way
as that dog ! "

The mother pulled the Little Russian by the hand
toward the table, gave him a shove, and finally succeeded
in seating him on a chair. She sat down at his side close
to him, shoulder to shoulder. Pavel stood in front of
them, holding Andrey's hand in his and pressing it.

" I understand how hard it is for you," he said.

" He told me that they know us all, that we are all
on the gendarme's record, and that we are going to be
dragged in before the first of May. I didn't answer, I
laughed, but my blood boiled. He began to tell me that
I was a clever fellow, and that I oughtn't to go on the
way I was going, but that I should rather "

The Little Russian stopped, wiped his face with his
right hand, shook his head, and a dry gleam flashed in
his eyes.

" I understand ! " said Pavel.

" Yes," he said, " I should rather enter the service of
the law." The Little Russian waved his hand, and swung
13 187

MOTHBR

his clenched fist. " The law ! — curse his soul ! " he hissed
between his teeth. " It would have been better if he had
struck me in the face. It would have been easier for
me, and better for him, perhaps, too ! But when he spit
his dirty thought into my heart that way, I could not
bear it."

Andrey pulled his hand convulsively from Pavel's,
and said more hoarsely with disgust in his face :

" I dealt him a back-hand blow like that, downward
and aslant, and walked away. I didn't even stop to look
at him; I heard him fall. He dropped and was silent.
I didn't dream of anything serious. I walked on peace-
fully, just as if I had done no more than kick a frog
with my foot. And then — what's all this ? I started to
work, and I heard them shouting : ' Isay is killed ! ' I
didn't even believe it, but my hand grew numb — and I
felt awkward in working with it. It didn't hurt me, but
it seemed to have grown shorter."

He looked at his hand obliquely and said:

" All my life, I suppose, I won't be able to wash off
that dirty stain from it."

" If only your heart is pure, my dear boy ! " the
mother said softly, bursting into tears.

" I don't regard myself as guilty ; no, I don't ! " said
the Little Russian firmly. " But it's disgust. It disgusts
me to carry such dirt inside of me. I had no need of it.
It wasn't called for."

" What do you think of doing? " asked Pavel, giving
him a suspicious look.

"What am I going to do?" the Little Russian re-
peated thoughtfully, drooping his head. Then raising it
again he said with a smile : " I am not afraid, of course,
to say that it was I who struck him. But I am ashamed
to say it. I am ashamed to go to prison, and even to

l88

MOTHER

hard labor, maybe, for such a — ^nothing. If some one
else is accused, then I'll go and confess. But otherwise,
go all of my own accord — I cannot ! "

He waved his hands, rose, and repeated :

" I cannot ! I am ashamed 1 "

The whistle blew. The Little Russian, bending his
head to one side, listened to the powerful roar, and shak-
ing himself, said:

" I am not going to work."

" Nor I," said Pavel.

" I'll go to the bath house," said the Little Russian,
smiling. He got ready in silence and walked off, sullen
and low-spirited.

The mother followed him with a compassionate look.

" Say what you please. Pasha, I cannot believe him !
And even if I did believe him, I wouldn't lay any blame
on him. No, I would not. I know it's sinful to kill a
man ; I believe in God and in the Lord Jesus Christ, but
still I don't think Andrey guilty. I'm sorry for Isay.
He's such a tiny bit of a manikin. He lies there in aston-
ishment. When I looked at him I remembered how he
threatened to have you hanged. And yet I neither felt
hatred toward him nor joy because he was dead. I simply
felt sorry. But now that I know by whose hand he
fell I am not even sorry for him."

She suddenly became silent, reflected a while, and
with a smile of surprise, exclaimed :

" Lord Jesus Christ ! Do you hear what I am saying,
Pasha?"

Pavel apparently had not heard her. Slowly pacing
up and down the room with drooping head, he said pen-
sively and with exasperation :

" Andrey won't forgive himself soon, if he'll forgive
himself at all ! There is life for you, mother. You see

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MOTHER

the position in which people are placed toward one an-
other. You don't want to, but you must strike! And
strike whom? Such a helpless being. He is more
wretched even than you because he is stupid. The police,
the gendarmes, the soldiers, the spies — ^they are all our
enemies, and yet they are all such people as we are.
Their blood is sucked out of them just as ours is, and
they are no more regarded as human beings than we are.
That's the way it is. But ^y have jet one part of the
jeople again&i- j-hr nthf^r, hlirHcd th'^^^wit^^^H^^Tn?^"'!
them all hand and foot, squeezed them, and drained their
blood, and used some as clubs against the others. They've
turned men into weapons, into sticks and stones, and
called it civilization, government."

He walked up to his mother and said to her firmly :

" That's crime, mother ! The heinous crime of killing

millions of people, the murder of millions of souls ! You

understand — ^they kill the soul! You see the difference

^between them and us. He killed a man unwittingly. He

I feels disgusted, ashamed, sick — ^the main thing is he feels

Mlisgusted! But they kill off thousands calmly, without

a qualm, without pity, without a shudder of the heart.

Xbey kill with pleasure and with delight. And why?

They stifle everybody and everythingln-death merely to

keep the timber of their houses secure, their furniture,

their silver, their gold, their worthless papers — all that

cheap trash which gives them control over the people.

Think, it's not for their own selves, for their persons,

that they protect themselves thus, using murder and the

mutilation of souls as a means — it's not for themselves

they do it, but for the sake of their possessions. They

do not guard themselves from within, but from without."

He bent over to her, took her hands, and shaking

them said:

iqo

MOTHMR

" If you felt the abomination of it all, the disgrace
and rottenness, you would understand our truth; you
would then perceive how great it is, how glorious ! "

The mother arose agitated, full of a desire to sink her
heart into the heart of her son, and to join them in one
burning, flaming torch.

"Wait, Pasha, wait!" she muttered, panting for
breath. " I am a human being. I feel. Wait."

There was a loud noise of some one entering the
porch. Both of them started and looked at each other.

"If it's the police coming for Audrey — " Pavel
whispered.

" I know nothing — nothing ! " the mother whispered
back. " Oh, God ! "

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CHAPTER XVII

'HE door opened slowly, and bending to
pass through, Rybin strode in heavily.

" Here I am ! " he said, raising his
head and smiling.

He wore a short fur overcoat, all stained
with tar, a pair of dark mittens stuck from his belt, and
his head was covered with a shaggy fur cap.

" Are you well ? Have they let you out of prison,
Pavel? So, how are you, Nilovna?"

" Why, you ? How glad I am to see you ! "
Slowly removing his overclothes, Rybin said ;
"Yes, I've turned muzhik again. You're gradually
turning gentlemen, and I am turning the other way.
That's it!"

Pulling his ticking shirt straight, he passed through
the room, examined it attentively, and remarked:

" You can see your property has not increased, but
you've grown richer in books. So ! That's the dearest
possession, books are, it's true. Well, tell me how things
are going with you."

" Things are going forward," said Pavel.
"Yes," said Rybin.

" We plow and we sow,
All high and low,
Boasting is cheap.
But the harvest we reap,
A feast we'll make.
And a rest we'll take."
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MOTHMR

" Will you have some tea ? " asked the mother.

"Yes, I'll have some tea, and I'll take a sip of
vodka, too; and if you'll give me something to eat, I
won't decline it, either. I am glad to see you — ^that's
what!"

" How's the world wagging with you, Mikhail
Ivanych ? " Pavel inquired, taking a seat opposite Rybin.

" So, so. Fairly well. I settled at Edilgeyev, Have
you ever heard of Edilgeyev? It's a fine village. There
are two fairs a year there; over two thousand in-
habitants. The people are an evil pack. There's no
land. It's leased out in lots. Poor soil ! "

" Do you talk to them ? " asked Pavel, becoming ani-
mated.

" I don't keep mum. You know I have all your
leaflets with me. I grabbed them away from here—
thirty-four of them. But I carry on my propaganda
chiefly with the Bible. You can get something out of
it. It's a thick book. It's a government book. It's pub- f-
lished by the Holy Synod. It's easy to believe ! " He
gave Pavel a wink, and continued with a laugh : " But
that's not enough ! I have come here to you to get books.
Yefim is here, too. We are transporting tar ; and so we
turned aside to stop at your house. You stock me up
with books before Yefim comes. He doesn't have to
know too much ! "

" Mother," said Pavel, " go get some books ! They'll
know what to give you. Tell them it's for the country."

" All right. The samovar will be ready in a moment,
and then I'll go."

" You have gone into this movement, too, Nilovna ? "
asked Rybin with a smile. " Very well. We have lots
of eager candidates for books. There's a teacher there
who creates a desire for them. He's a fine fellow, they

193

MOTHMR

say, although he belongs to the clergy. We have a wom-
an teacher, too, about seven versts from the village. But
they don't work with illegal books; they're a 'law and
order ' crowd out there ; they're afraid. But I want for-
bidden books — sharp, pointed books. I'll slip them
through their fingers. When the police commissioners
or the priest see that they are illegal books, they'll think
it's the teachers who circulate them. And in the mean-
time I'll remain in the background."

Well content with his hard, practical sense, he grinned
merrily.

" Hm ! " thought the mother. " He looks like a bear
and behaves like a fox."

Pavel rose, and pacing up and down the room with
even steps, said reproachfully:

" We'll let you have the books, but what you want
to do is not right, Mikhail Ivanovich."

" Why is it not right ? " asked Rybin, opening his
eyes in astonishment.

" You yourself ought to answer for what you do. It
is not right to manage matters so that others should suffer
for what you do." Pavel spoke sternly.

Rybin looked at the floor, shook his head, and said:

" I don't understand you."

" If the teachers are suspected," said Pavel, station-
ing himself in front of Rybin, " of distributing illegal
books, don't you think they'll be put in jail for it?"

" Yes. Well, what if they are ? "

"But it's you who distribute the books, not they.
Then it's you that ought to go to prison."

" What a strange fellow you are ! " said Rybin with
a smile, striking his hand on his knee. "Who would
suspect me, a muzhik, of occupying myself with such
matters? Why, does such a thing happen? Books are

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MOTHER

affairs of the masters, and it's for them to answer for
them."

The mother felt that Pavel did not understand Rybin,
and she saw that he was screwing up his eyes — a sign
of anger. So she interjected in a cautious, soft voice:

" Mikhail Ivanovich wants to fix it so that he should
be able to go on with his work, and that others should
take the punishment for it."

" That's it 1 " said Rybin, stroking his beard.

" Mother," Pavel asked dryly, " suppose some of our
people, Andrey, for example, did something behind my
back, and 1 were put in prison for it, what would you say
to that ? "

The mother started, looked at her son in perplexity,
and said, shaking her head in negation :

"Why, is it possible to act that way toward a com-
rade?"

"Aha! Yes!" Rybin drawled. " I understand you,
Pavel." And with a comical wink toward the mother, he
added : " This is a delicate matter, mother." And again
turning to Pavel he held forth in a didactic manner:
" Your ideas on this subject are very green, brother. In
secret work there is no honor. Think ! In the first place,
they'll put those persons in prison on whom they find
the books, and not the teachers. That's number one!
Secondly, even though the teachers give the people only
legal books to read, you know that they contain pro-
hibited things just the same as in the forbidden books;
only they are put in a different language. The truths are
fewer. That's number two. I mean to say, they want
the same thing that I do ; only they proceed by side paths,
while I travel on the broad highway. And thirdly,
brother, what business hiave I with them? How can a
traveler on foot strike up friendship with a man on horse-

195

MOTHER

back? Toward a muzhik, maybe, I wouldn't want to act
that way. But these people, one a clergyman, the other
the daughter of a land proprietor, why they want to up-
lift the people, I cannot understand. Their ideas, the
ideas of the masters, are unintelligible to me, a muzhik.
What I do myself, I know, but what they are after I can-
not tell. For thousands of years they have punctiliously
and consistently pursued the business of being masters,
and have fleeced and flayed the skins of the muzhiks;
and all of a sudden they wake up and want to open the
muzhik's eyes. I am not a man for fairy tales, brother,
and that's in the nature of a fairy tale. That's why I
can't get interested in them. The ways of the masters
are strange to me. You travel in winter, and you
see some living creature in front of you. But what
it is — a wolf, a fox, or just a plain dog — you don't
know."

The mother glanced at her son. His face wore a
gloomy expression.

Rybin's eyes sparkled with a dark gleam. He looked
at Pavel, combing down his beard with his fingers. His
air was at once complacent and excited.

" I have no time to flirt," he said. " Life is a stern
matter. We live in dog houses, not in sheep pens, and
every pack barks after its own fashion."

" There are some masters," said the mother, recalling
certain familiar faces, " who die for the people, and let
themselves be tortured all their lives in prison."

"Their calculations are different, and their deserts
are different," said Rybin. "The muzhik groyrn rich
turns into a gentleman, and the gentleman groveji poor
goes to the muzhik. Willy-nilly, he must have a pure
soul, if his purse is empty. Do you remember,, Pavel,
you explained to me that as a man lives, so he also thinks,

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MOTHER

and that if the workingman says ' Yes,' the master must
say ' No,' and if the workingman says ' No,' the master,
because of the nature of the beast, is bound to cry ' Yes.'
So you see, their natures are different one from the
other. The muzhik has his nature, and the gentleman
has his. When the peasant has a full stomach, the gen-
tleman passes sleepless nights. Of course, every fold
has its black sheep, and I have no desire to defend the
peasants wholesale."

Rybin rose to his feet somber and powerful. His
face darkened, his beard quivered as if he ground his
teeth inaudibly, and he continued in a lowered voice :

" For five years I beat about from factory to factory,
and got unaccustomed to the village. Then I went to the
village again, looked around, and I found I could not live
like that any more! You understand? I can't. You
live here, you don't know hunger, you don't see such out-
rages. There hunger stalks after a man all his life like
a shadow, and he has no hope for bread — no hope ! Hun-
ger destroys the soul of the people; the very image of
man is effaced from their countenances. They do not
live, they rot in dire unavoidable want. And around
them the government authorities watch like ravens to
see if a crumb is not left over. And if they do find a
crumb, they snatch that away, too, and give you a punch
in the face besides."

Rybin looked around, bent down to Pavel, his hand
resting on the table :

" I even got sick and faint when I saw that life again.
I looked around me — ^but I couldn't! However, I con-
quered-my repulsion. 'Fiddlesticks!' I said. 'I won't
let my feelings get the better of me. I'll stay here. I
won't get your bread for you ; but I'll cook you a pretty
mess, I will.' I carry within me the wrongs of my people

197

MOTHER

and hatred of the oppressor. I feel these wrongs like a
knife constantly cutting at my heart."

Perspiration broke out on his forehead; he shrugged
his shoulders and slowly bent toward Pavel, laying a
tremulous hand on his shoulder:

" Give me your help ! Let me have books — such
books that when a man has read them he will not be able
to rest. Put a prickly hedgehog to his brains. Tell those
city folks who write for you to write for the villagers
also. Let them write such hot truth that it will scald the
village, that the people will even rush to their death."

He raised his hand, and laying emphasis on each
word, he said hoarsely:

" Let death make amends for death. That is, die so
that the people should arise to life again. And let
thousands die in order that hosts of people all over the
earth may arise to life again. That's it! It's easy to
die — ^but let the people rise to life again! That's a dif-
ferent thing! Let them rise up in rebellion! "

The mother brought in the samovar, looking askance
at Rybin. His strong, heavy words oppressed her.
Something in him reminded her of her husband. He,
too, showed his teeth, waved his hands, and rolled up
his sleeves ; in him, too, there was that impatient wrath,
impatient but dumb. Rybin was not dumb; he was not
silent; he spoke, and therefore was less terrible.

" That's necessary," said Pavel, nodding his head.
"We need a newspaper for the villages, too. Give us
material, and we'll print you a newspaper."

The mother looked at her son with a smile, and shook
her head. She had quietly put on her wraps and now
went out of the house.

"Yes, do it. We'll give you everything. Write as
simply as possible, so that even calves could understand,"

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MOTHER

Rybin cried. Then, suddenly stepping back from Pavel,
he said, as he shook his head :

" Ah, me, if I were a Jew ! The Jew, my dear boy,
is the most believing man in the world! Isaiah, the
prophet, or Job, the patient, believed more strongly than
Christ's apostles. They could say words to make a man's
hair stand on end. But the apostles, you see, Pavel,
couldn't. The prophets believed not in the church, but
in themselves; they had their God in themselves. The
apostles — they built churches; and the church is law.
Man must believe in himself, not in law. Man carries
the truth of God in his soul; he is not a police captain
on earth, nor a slave ! All the laws are in myself."

The kitchen door opened, and somebody walked in.

"It's Yefim," said Rybin, looking into the kitchen.
" Come here, Yefim. As for you, Pavel, think ! Think
a whole lot. There is a great deal to think about. This
is Yefim. And this man's name is Pavel. I told you
about him."

A light-haired, broad-faced young fellow in a short
fur overcoat, well built and evidently strong, stood before
Pavel, holding his cap in both hands and looking at him
from the corners of his gray eyes.

" How do you do ? " he said hoarsely, as he shook
hands with Pavel, and stroked his curly hair with both
hands. He looked around the room, immediately spied
the bookshelf, and walked over to it slowly.

"Went straight to them!" Rybin said, winking to
Pavel.

Yefim started to examine the books, and said :

"A whole lot of reading here! But I suppose you
haven't much time for it. Down in the village they have
more time for reading."

"But less desire?" Pavel asked.
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MOTHER

" Why ? They have the desire, too," answered the fel-
low, rubbing his chin. " The times are so now that if
you don't think, you might as well lie down and die. But
the people don't want to die; and so they've begun to
make their brains work. 'Geology' — what's that?"

Pavel explained.

" We don't need it ! " Yefim said, replacing the book
on the shelf.

Rybin sighed noisily, and said:

" The peasant is not so much interested to know where
the land came from as where it's gone to, how it's been
snatched from underneath his feet by the gentry. It
doesn't matter to him whether it's fixed or whether it
revolves — that's of no importance — you can hang it on a
rope, if you want to, provided it feeds him ; you can nail
it to the skies, provided it gives him enough to eat."

" ' The History of Slavery,' " Yefim read out again,
and asked Pavel : " Is it about us ? "

" Here's an account of Russian serfdom, too," said
Pavel, giving him another book. Yefim took it, turned
it in his hands, and putting it aside, said calmly:

" That's out of date."

"Have you an apportionment of land for yourself?"
inquired Pavel.

"We? Yes, we have. We are three brothers, and
our portion is about ten acres and a half — all sand— good
for polishing brass, but poor for making bread." After
a pause he continued : " I've freed myself from the soil.
What's the use? It does not feed; it ties one's hands.
This is the fourth year that I'm working as a hired man.
I've got to become a soldier this fall. Uncle Mikhail
says : ' Don't go. Now,' he says, ' the soldiers are be-
ing sent to beat the people.' However, I think I'll go.
The army existed at the time of Stepan Timofeyevich

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MOTHSR

Razin and Pugachev. The time has come to make an
end of it. Don't you think so ? " he asked, looking firmly
at Pavel.

"Yes, the time has come." The answer was accom-
panied by a smile. " But it's hard. You must know what
to say to soldiers, and how to say it."

" We'll learn ; we'll know how," Yefim said.

"And if the superiors catch you at it, they may
shoot you down," Pavel concluded, looking curiously at
Yefim.

"They will show no mercy," the peasant assented
calmly, and resumed his examination of the books.

" Drink your tea, Yefim ; we've got to leave soon,"
said Rybin.

" Directly." And Yefim asked again : " Revolution "N
is an uprising, isn't it ? "

Andrey came, red, perspiring, and dejected. He
shook Yefim's hand without saying anything, sat down
by Rybin's side, and smiled as he looked at him.

"What's the trouble? Why so blue?" Rybin asked,
tapping his knee.

" Nothing."

"Are you a workingman, too?" asked Yefim, nod-
ding his head toward the Little Russian.

" Yes," Andrey answered. " Why ? "

"This is the first time he's seen factory workmen,"
explained Rybin. "He says they're different from
others."

"How so?" Pavel asked.

Yefim looked carefully at Andrey and said :

" You have sharp bones ; peasants' bones are rounder."

" The peasant stands more firmly on his feet," Rybin
supplemented. " He feels the ground under him although
he does not possess it. Yet he feels the earth. But the

20I

MOTHBR

factory workingman is something like a bird. He has
no home. To-day he's here, to-morrow there. Even his
wife can't attach him to the same spot. At the least
provocation — farewell, my dear ! and off he goes to look
for something better. But the peasant wants to improve
himself just where he is without moving off the spot.
There's your mother!" And Rybin went out into the
kitchen.

Yefim approached Pavel, and with embarrassment
asked :

" Perhaps you will give me a book ? "

" Certainly."

The peasant's eyes flashed, and he said rapidly:

" I'll return it. Some of our folks bring tar not far
from here. They will return it for me. Thank you!
Nowadays a book is like a candle in the night to us."

Rybin, already dressed and tightly girt, came in and
said to Yefim :

" Come, it's time for us to go."

" Now, I have something to read ! " exclaimed Yefim,
pointing to the book and smiling inwardly. When he had
gone, Pavel animatedly said, turning to Audrey :

" Did you notice those fellows ? "

" Y-yes ! " slowly uttered the Little Russian. " Like
clouds in the sunset — ^thick, dark clouds, moving slowly."

" Mikhail ! " exclaimed the mother. " He looks as if
he had never been in a factory ! A peasant again. And
how formidable he looks ! "

" I'm sorry you weren't here," said Pavel to Audrey,
who was sitting at the table, staring gloomily into his
glass of tea. " You could have seen the play of hearts.
You always talk about the heart. R^bia got up a lot of
steam; he upset me, crushed me. Icouldn't even reply
to him. How distrustful he is of people, and how cheaply

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MOTHMR

hgjjalues-thfiHL! Mother is right. That man has a for-
midable power in him."

" I noticed it," the Little Russian replied glumly.
"They have poisoned people. When the peasants rise
up, they'll overturn absolutely everything! They need
bare land, and they will lay it bare, tpar Hnwn pvpry-
thjjigr" He spoke slowly, and it was evident that his
mind was on something else. The mother cautiously
tapped him on the shoulder.

" Pull yourself together, Andriusha."

" Wait a little, my dear mother, my own ! " he begged
softly and kindly. " All this is so ugly — although I
didn't mean to do any harm. Wait ! " And suddenly
rousing himself, he said, striking the table with his hand :
" Yes, Pavel, the peasant will lay the land bare for him-
self when he rises to his feet. He will burn everything
up, as if after a plague, so that all traces of his wrongs
will vanish in ashes."

"And then he will get in our way," Pavel observed
softly.

" It's our business to prevent that. We are nearer to
him ; he trusts us ; he will follow us."

"Do you know, Rybin proposes that we should pub-
lish a newspaper for the village ? "

" We must do it, too. As soon as possible."

Pavel laughed and said :

" I feel bad I didn't argue with him."

"We'll have a chance to argue with him still," the
Little Russian rejoined. "You keep on playing your
flute; whoever has gay feet, if they haven't grown into
the ground, will dance to your tune. Rybin would prob-
ably have said that we don't feel the groimd under us,
and need not, either. Therefore it's our business to
shake it. Shake it once, and the people will be loosened
14 203

MOTHMR

from it ; shake it once more, and they'll tear themselves
away."

The mother smiled.

" Everything seems to be simple to you, Andriusha."

" Yes, yes, it's simple," said the Little Russian, and
added gloomily : " Like life." A few minutes later he
said : " I'll go take a walk in the field."

" After the bath ? The wind will blow through you,"
the mother warned.

" Well, I need a good airing."

" Look out, you'll catch a cold," Pavel said affection-
ately. " You'd better lie down and try to sleep."

" No, I'm going." He put on his wraps, and went
out without speaking.

" It's hard for him," the mother sighed.

" You know what ? " Pavel observed to her. " It's
very good that you started to say ' thou ' to him after
that."

She looked at him in astonishment, and after reflect-
ing a moment, said :

" Um, I didn't even notice how it came. It came all
of itself. He has grown so near to me. I can't tell you
in words just how I feel. Oh, such a misfortune ! "

" You have a good heart, mamma," Pavel said softly.

" I'm very glad if I have. If I could only help you
in some way, all of you. If I only could ! "

" Don't fear, you will."

She laughed softly :

" I can't help fearing ; that's exactly what I can't
help. But thank you for the good word, my dear son."

" All right, mother ; don't let's talk about it any more.
Know that I love you; and I thank you most heartily."

She walked into the kitchen in order not to annoy
him with her tears.

2C4

CHAPTER XVIII

TEVERAL days later Vyesovshchikov came
in, as shabby, untidy, and disgruntled as
ever.

" Haven't you heard who killed Isay ? "
He stopped in his clumsy pacing of the
room to turn to Pavel.

" No ! " Pavel answered briefly.

" There you got a man who wasn't squeamish about
the job ! And I'd always been preparing to do it myself.
It was my job — just the thing for me ! "

"Don't talk nonsense, Nikolay," Pavel said in a
friendly manner.

" Now, really, what's the matter with you ? " inter-
posed the mother kindly. "You have a soft heart, and
yet you keep barking like a vicious dog. What do you
go on that way for ? "

At this moment she was actually pleased to see Niko-
lay. Even his pockmarked face looked more agreeable
to her. She pitied him as never before.

" Well, I'm not fit for anything but jobs like that ! "
said Nikolay dully, shrugging his shoulders. " I keep
thinking, and thinking where my place in the world is.
There is no place for me! The people require to be
spoken to, and I cannot. I see everything ; I feel all the
people's wrongs; but I cannot express myself: I have a
dumb soul." He went over to Pavel with drooping head ;
and scraping his fingers on the table, he said plaintively,

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MOTHER

and so unlike himself, childishly, sadly : " Give me some
hard work to do, comrade. I can't live this life any
longer. It's so senseless, so useless. You are all working
in the movement, and I see that it is growing, and I'm
outside of it all. I haul boards and beams. Is it possible
to live for the sake of hauling timber? Give me some
hard work."

Pavel clasped his hand, pulling him toward himself.

" We will ! "

From behind the curtains resounded the Little Rus-
sian's voice:

" Nikolay, I'll teach you typesetting, and you'll work
as a compositor for us. Yes ? "

Nikolay went over to him and said :

" If you'll teach me that, I'll give you my knife."

" To the devil with your knife ! " exclaimed the Little
Russian and burst out laughing.

" It's a good knife," Nikolay insisted. Pavel laughed,
too.

Vyesovshchikov stopped in the middle of the room
and asked:

" Are you laughing at me ? "

" Of course," replied the Little Russian, jumping out
of bed. " I'll tell you what ! Let's take a walk in the
fields! The night is fine; there's bright moonshine.
Let's go!"

" All right," said Pavel.

" And I'll go with you, too ! " declared Nikolay. " I
like to hear you laugh,^Little Russian."

" And I like to hear you promise presents," answered
the Little Russian, smiling.

While Andrey was dressing in the kitchen, the mother
scolded him :

" Dress warmer ! You'll get sick." And when they
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MOTHER

all had left, she watched them through the window ; then
looked at the ikon, and said softly : " God help them ! "

She turned off the lamp and began to pray alone in
the moonlit room.

The days flew by in such rapid succession that the
mother could not give much thought to the first of May.
Only at night, when, exhausted by the noise and the
exciting bustle of the day, she went to bed, tired and
worn out, her heart would begin to ache.

" Oh, dear, if it would only be over soon ! "

At dawn, when the factory whistle blew, the son and
the Little Russian, after hastily drinking tea and snatch-
ing a bite, would go, leaving a dozen or so small commis-
sions, for the mother. The whole day long she would
move around like a squirrel in a wheel, cook dinner, and
boil lilac-colored gelatin and glue for the proclamations.
Some people would come, leave notes with her to deliver
to Pavel, and disappear, infecting her with their ex-
citement.

The leaflets appealing to the working people to cele-
brate the first of May flooded the village and the factory.
Every night they were posted on the fences, even on the
doors of the police station ; and every day they were found
in the factory. In the mornings the police would go
around, swearing, tearing down and scraping oif the
lilac-CQvered bills from the fences. At noon, however,
these bills would fly over the streets again, rolling to the
feet of the passers-by. Spies were sent from the city to
stand at the street corners and carefully scan the working
people on their gay passages from and to the factory at
dinner time. Everybody was pleased to see the impotence
of the police, and even the elder workingmen would smile
at one another :

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MOTHER

" Things are happening, aren't they ? "

All over, people would cluster into groups hotly dis-
cussing the stirring appeals. Life was at boiling point.
This spring it held more of interest to everybody, it
brought forth something new to all ; for some it was a
good excuse to excite themselves — ^they could pour out
their malicious oaths on the agitators; to others, it
brought perplexed anxiety as well as hope; to others
again, the minority, an acute delight in the consciousness
of being the power that set the village astir.

Pavel and Andrey scarcely ever went to bed. They
came home just before the morning whistle sounded,
tired, hoarse, and pale. The mother knew that they held
meetings in the woods and the marsh; that squads of
mounted police galloped around the village, that spies
were crawling all over, holding up and searching single
workingmen, dispersing/ groups, and sometimes making
an arrest. She und^t'stood that her son and Andrey
might be arrested any night. Sometimes she thought
that this would be the best thing for them.

Strangely enough, the investigation of the murder of
Isay, the record clerk, suddenly ceased. For two days
the local police questioned the people in regard to the
matter, examining about ten men or so, and finally lost
interest in the affair.

Marya Korsunova, in a chat with the mother, re-
flected the opinion of the police, with whom she asso-
ciated as amicably as with everybody:

" How is it possible to find the guilty man? That
morning some hundred people met Isay, and ninety of
them, if not more, might have given him the blow. Dur-
ing these eight years he has galled everybody."

The Little Russian changed considerably. His face
became hollow-cheeked; his eyelids got heavy and

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MOTHER

drooped over his round eyes, half covering them. His
smiles were wrung from him unwillingly, and two thin
wrinkles were drawn from his nostrils to the corners of
his lips. He talked less about everyday matters ; on the
other hand, he was more frequently enkindled with a
passionate fire ; and he intoxicated his listeners with his
ecstatic words about the future, about the bright, beauti-
ful holiday, when they would celebrate the triumph of
freedom and reason. Listening to his words, the mother
felt that he had gone further than anybody else toward
the great, glorious day, and that he saw the joys of that
future more vividly than the rest. When the investiga-
tions of Isay's murder ceased, he said in disgust and
smiling sadly:

" It's not only the people they treat like trash, but
even the very men whom they set on the people like
dogs. They have no concern for their faithful Judases,
they care only for their shekels — only for them." And
after a sullen silence, he added : " And I pity that man
the more I think of him. I didn't intend to kill him —
didn't want to!"

" Enough, Audrey," said Pavel severely.

" You happened to knock against something rotten,
and it fell to pieces," added the mother in a low voice.

"You're right — but that's no consolation."

He often spoke in this way. In his mouth the words
assumed a peculiar, universal significance, bitter and
corrosive.

At last, it was the first of May! The whistle shrilled
as usual, powerful and peremptory. The mother, who
hadn't slept a minute during the night, jumped out of
bed, made a fire in the samovar, which had been pre-
pared the evening before, and was about, as always, to
knock at the door of her son's and Audrey's room, when,

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MOTHER

with a wave of her hand she recollected the day, and
went to seat herself at the window, leaning her cheek
on her hand.

Clusters of light clouds, white and rosy, sailed swiftly
across the pale blue sky, like huge birds frightened by
the piercing shriek of the escaping steam. The mother
watched the clouds, absorbed in herself. Her head was
heavy, her eyes dry and inflamed from the sleepless
night. A strange calm possessed her breast, her heart
was beating evenly, and her mind dwelt on only common,
everyday things.

" I prepared the samovar too early; it will boil away.
Let them sleep longer to-day; they've worn themselves
out, both of them."

A cheerful ray of sun looked into the room. She held
her hand out to it, and with the other gently patted the
bright young beam, smiling kindly and thoughtfully.
Then she rose, removed the pipe from the samovar,
trying not to make a noise, washed herself, and began
to pray, crossing herself piously, and noiselessly moving
her lips. Her face was radiant, and her right eyebrow
kept rising gradually and suddenly dropping.

The second whistle blew more softly with less assur-
ance, a tremor in its thick and mellow sound. It seemed
to the mother that the whistle lasted longer to-day than
ever. The clear, musical voice of the Little Russian
sounded in the room :

" Pavel, do you hear? They're calling."

The mother heard the patter of bare feet on the floor
and some one yawn with gusto.

" The samovar is ready," she cried.

" We're getting, up," Pavel answered merrily.

" The sun is rising," said the Little Russian. " The
clouds are racing; they're out of place to-day." He went

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MOTHER

into the kitchen all disheveled but jolly after his sleep.
" Good morning, mother dear; how did you sleep? "

The mother went to him and whispered :

" Andriusha, keep close to him."

" Certainly. As long as it depends on us, we'll always
stick to each other, you may be sure."

"What's that whispering about?" Pavel asked.

" Nothing. She told me to wash myself better, so
the girls will look at me," replied the Little Russian,
going out on the porch to wash himself.

" ' Rise up, awake, you workingmen,' " Pavel sang
softly.

As the day grew, the clouds dispersed, chased by
the wind. The mother got the dishes ready for the tea,
shaking her head over the thought of how strange it was
for both of them to be joking and smiling all the time
on this morning, when who knew what would befall
them in the afternoon. Yet, curiously enough, she felt
herself calm, almost happy.

They sat a long time over the tea to while away the
hours of expectation. Pavel, as was his wont, slowly
and scrupulously mixed the sugar in the glass with his
spoon, and accurately salted his favorite crust from the
end of the loaf. The Little Russian moved his feet under
the table — he never could at once settle his feet com-
fortably— and looked at the rays of sunlight playing on
the wall and ceiling.

"When I was a youngster of ten years," he re-
counted, " I wanted to catch the sun in a glass. So I
took the glass, stole to the wall, and bang! I cut my
hand and got a licking to boot. After the licking I went
out in the yard and saw the sun in a puddle. So I
started to trample the mud with my feet. I covered
myself with mud, and got another drubbing. What was

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MOTHMR

I to do ? I screamed to the sun : ' It doesn't hurt me,
you red devil ; it doesn't hurt me ! ' and stuck out my
tongue at him. And I felt comforted."

" Why did the sun seem red to you ? " Pavel asked,
laughing.

" There was a blacksmith opposite our house, with
fine red cheeks, and a huge red beard. I thought the
sun resembled him."

The mother lost patience and said :

" You'd better talk about your arrangements for the
procession."

" Everything's been arranged," said Pavel.

" No use talking of things once decided upon. It
only confuses the mind," the Little Russian added. " If
we are all arrested, Nikolay Ivanovich will come and tell
you what to do. He will help you in every way."

" All right," said the mother with a heavy sigh.

" Let's go out," said Pavel dreamily.

" No, rather stay indoors," repUed Andrey. " No
need to annoy the eyes of the police so often. They
know you well enough."

Fedya Mazin came running in, all aglow, with red
spots on his cheeks, quivering with youthful joy. His
animation dispelled the tedium of expectation for them.

" It's begun! " he reported. " The people are all out
on the street, their faces sharp as the edge of an ax.
Vyesovshchikov, the Gusevs, and Samoylov have been
standing at the factory gates all the time, and have been
making speeches. Most of the people went back from
the factory, and returned home. Let's go! It's just
time ! It's ten o'clock already."

" I'm going! " said Pavel decidedly.

" You'll see," Fedya assured them, " the whole fac-
tory will rise up after dinner."

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MOTHER

And he hurried away, followed by the quiet words of
the mother:

" Burning like a wax candle in the wind."

She rose and went into the kitchen to dress.

" Where are you going, mother ? "

" With you," she said.

Andrey looked at Pavel pulling his mustache. Pavel
arranged his hair with a quick gesture, and went to his
mother.

" Mother, I will not tell you anything ; and don't you
tell me anything, either. Right, mother?"

" All right, all right 1 God bless you ! " she mur-
mured.

When she went out and heard the holiday hum of
the people's voices— an anxious and expectant hum —
when she saw everywhere, at the gates and windows,
crowds of people staring at Andrey and her son, a blur
quivered before her eyes, changes from a transparent
green to a muddy gray.

People greeted them — ^there was something peculiar
in their greetings. She caught whispered, broken re-
marks :

" Here they are, the leaders ! "

" We don't know who the leaders are! "

" Why, I didn't say anything wrong."

At another place some one in a yard shouted ex-
citedly:

"The police will get them, and that'll be the end
of them!"

" What if they do? " retorted another voice.

Farther on a crying woman's voice leaped frightened
from the window to the street :

"Consider! Are you a single man, are you? They
are bachelors and don't care! "

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MOTHMR

When they passed the house of Zosimov, the man
without legs, who received a monthly allowance from
the factory because of his mutilation, he stuck his head
through the window and cried out :

" Pavel, you scoundrel, they'll wring your head off
for your doings, you'll see ! "

The mother trembled and stopped. The exclamation
aroused in her a sharp sensation of anger. She looked
up at the thick, bloated face of the cripple, and he hid
himself, cursing. Then she quickened her pace, over-
took her son, and tried not to fall behind again. He
and Audrey seemed not to notice anything, not to hear
the outcries that pursued them. They moved calmly,
without haste, and talked loudly about commonplaces.
They were stopped by Mironov, a modest, elderly man,
respected by everybody for his clean, sober life.

"Not working either, Daniil Ivanovich?" Pavel
asked.

" My wife is going to be confined. Well, and such an
exciting day, too," Mironov responded, staring fixedly
at the comrades. He said to them in an undertone:

" Boys, I hear you're going to make an awful row —
smash the superintendent's windows."

"Why, are we- drunk?" exclaimed Pavel.

" We are simply going to march along the streets
with flags, and sing songs," said the Little Russian.
" You'll have a chance to hear our songs. They're our
confession of faith."

" I know your confession of faith," said Mironov
thoughtfully. " I read your papers. You, Nilovna," he
exclaimed, smiling at the mother with knowing eyes,
" are you going to revolt, too ? "

" Well, even if it's only before death, I want to walk
shoulder to shoulder with the truth."

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MOTHER

" I declare ! " said Mironov. " I guess they were
telling the truth when they said you carried forbidden
books to the factory."

" Who said so? " asked Pavel.

" Oh, people. Well, good-by! Behave yourselves! "

The mother laughed softly; she was pleased to hear
that such things were said of her. Pavel smilingly turned
to her:

" Oh, you'll get into prison, mother ! "

" I don't mind," she murmured.

The sun rose higher, pouring warmth into the brac-
ing freshness of the spring day. The clouds floated more
slowly, their shadows grew thinner and more transpar-
ent, and crawled gently' over the streets and roofs. The
bright sunlight seemed to clean the village, to wipe the
dust and dirt from the walls and the tedium from
the faces. Everything assumed a more cheerful aspect 5
the voices sounded louder, drowning the far-oflf rumble
and heavings of the factory machines.

Again, from all sides, from the windows and the
yards, different words and voices, now uneasy and ma-
licious, now thoughtful and gay, found their way to the
mother's ears. But this time she felt a desire to retort,
to thank, to explain, to participate in the strangely varie-
gated life of the day.

OfiE a corner of the main thoroughfare, in a narrow
by-street, a crowd of about a hundred people had gath-
ered, and from its depths resounded Vyesovshchikov's
voice :

" They squeeze our blood like juice from huckle-
berries." His words fell like hammer blows on the
people.

" That's true ! " the resonant cry rang out simultane-
ously from a number of throats.

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MOTHER

" The boy is doing his best," said the Little Russian.
" I'll go help him." He bent low and before Pavel had
time to stop him he twisted his tall, flexible body into
the crowd like a corkscrew into a cork, and soon his
singing voice rang out :

" Comrades ! They say there are various races on
the earth — ^Jews and Germans, English and Tartars. But
I don't believe it. There are only two nations, two irrec-
oncilable tribes — ^the rich and the poor. People dress
differently and speak differently; but look at the rich
Frenchman, the rich German, or the rich Englishman,'
you'll see that they are all Tartars in the way they treat
their workingman — a plague on them ! "

A laugh broke out in the crowd.

" On the other hand, we can see the French working-
men, the Tartar workingmen, the Turkish workingmen,
all lead the same dog's life, as we — we, the Russian
workingmen."

More and more people joined the crowd; one after
the other they thronged into the by-street, silent, step-
ping on tiptoe, and craning their necks. Audrey raised
his voice:

" The workingmen of foreign countries have already
learned this simple truth, and to-day, on this bright first
of May, the foreign working people fraternize with one
another. They quit their work, and go out into the
streets to look at themselves, to take stock of their im-
mense power. On this day, the workingmen out there
throb with one heart ; for all hearts are lighted with the
consciousness of the might of the working people; all
hearts beat with comradeship, each and every one of
them is ready to lay down his life in the war for the hap-
piness of all, for freedom and truth to all — comrades ! "

" The police ! " some one shouted.
2l6

CHAPTER XIX

[ROM the main street four mounted police-
men flourishing their knouts came riding
into the by-street directly at the crowd.
" Disperse ! "

" What sort of talking is going on ? "
" Who's speaking? "

The people scowled, giving way to the horses un-
willingly. Some climbed up on fences; raillery was
heard here and there.

" They put pigs on horses ; they grunt : ' Here we are,
leaders, too ! ' " resounded a sonorous, provoking voice.
The Little Russian was left alone in the middle of
the street; two horses shaking their manes pressed at
him. He stepped aside, and at the same time the mother
grasped his hand, pulling him away grumbling:

" You promised to stick to Pasha; and here you are

running up against the edge of a knife all by yourself."

" I plead guilty," said the Little Russian, smiling at

Pavel. "Ugh! What a force of police there is in the

world!"

" All right," murmured the mother.
An alarming, crushing exhaustion came over her.
It rose from within her and made her dizzy. There was
a strange alternation of sadness and joy in her heart.
She wished the afternoon whistle would sound.

They reached the square where the church stood.
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MOTHER

Around the church within the paling a thick crowd was
sitting and standing. There were some five hundred
gay youth and busthng women with children darting
around the groups hke butterflies. The crowd swung
from side to side. The people raised their heads and
looked into the distance in diflferent directions, waiting
impatiently.

" Mitenka ! " softly vibrated a woman's voice.
" Have pity on yourself ! "

" Stop ! " rang out the response.

And the grave Sizov spoke calmly, persuasively:

" No, we mustn't abandon our children. They have
grown wiser than ourselves ; they hve more boldly. Who
saved our cent for the marshes? They did, We must
remember that. For doing it they were dragged to
prison; but we derived the benefit. The benefit was for
all."

The whistle blew, drowning the talk of the crowd.
The people started. Those sitting rose to their feet.
For a moment the silence of death prevailed; all became
watchful, and many faces grew pale.

" Comrades ! " resounded Pavel's voice, ringing and
firm.

A dry, hot haze burned the mother's eyes, and with
a single movement of her body, suddenly strengthened,
she stood behind her son. All turned toward Pavel, and
drew up to him, like iron filings attracted by a magnet.

" Brothers ! The hour has come to give up this life
of ours, this life of greed, hatred, and darkness, this life
of violence and falsehood, this life where there is no
place for us, where we are no human beings."

He stopped, and everybody maintained silence, mov-
ing still closer to him. The mother stared at her son.
She saw only his eyes, his proud, brave, burning eyes.

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MOTHMR

" Comrades ! We have decided to declare openly
who we are; we raise our banner to-day, the banner of
reason, of truth, of liberty! And now I raise it! "

A flag pole, white and slender, flashed in the air, bent
down, cleaving the crowd. For a moment it was lost
from sight; then over the uplifted faces the broad canvas
of the working people's flag spread its wings like a red
bird.

Pavel raised his hand — ^the pole swung, and a dozen
hands caught the smooth white rod. Among them was
the mother's hand.

" Long live the working people ! " he shouted.

Hundreds of voices responded to his sonorous call.

" Long live the Social Democratic Workingmen's
Party, our party, comrades, our"spiritllal rnother."

The crowd seethed and hummed, those who under-
stood the meaning of the flag squeezed their way up to it.
Mazin, Samoylov, and the Gusevs stood close at Pavel's
side. Nikolay with bent head pushed his way through
the crowd. Some other people unkfiown to the mother,
young and with burning eyes, jostled her.

" Long live the working people of all countries ! "
shouted Pavel.

And ever increasing in force and joy, a thousand-
mouthed echo responded in a soul-stirring acclaim.

The mother clasped Pavel's hand, and somebody
else's, too. She was breathless with tears, yet refrained
from shedding them. Her legs trembled, and with quiv-
ering lips she cried:

" Oh, my dear boys, that's true. There you are
now "

A broad smile spread over Nikolay's pockmarked
face ; he stared at the flag and, stretching his hand to-
ward it, roared out something; then caught the mother
16 219

MOTHMR

around the neck with the same hand, kissed her, and
laughed.

" Comrades ! " sang out the Little Russian, subduing
the noise of the crowd with his mellow voice. " Com-
rades! We have now started a holy procession in the
name of the new God, the God of Truth and Light, the
God of Reason and Goodness. We march in this holy
procession, comrades, over a long and hard road. Our
goal is far, far away, and the crown of thorns is near!
Those who don't believe in the might of truth, who
have not the courage to stand up for it even unto death,
who do not believe in themselves and are afraid of suf-
fering— such of you, step aside! We call upon those
only who believe in our triumph. Those who cannot see
our goal, let them not walk with us; only misery is in
store for them! Fall into line, comrades! Long live
the first of May, the holiday of freemen ! "

The crowd drew closer. Pavel waved the flag. It
spread out in the air and sailed forward, sunlit, smiling,
red, and glowing.

" Let us renounce the old world! " resounded Fedya
Mazin's ringing voice ; and scores of voices took up the
cry. It floated as on a mighty wave.

" Let us shake its dust from our feet."

The mother marched behind Mazin with a smile on
her dry lips, and looked over his head at her son and
the flag. Everywhere, around her, was the sparkle of
fresh young cheerful faces, the glimmer of many-col-
ored eyes; and at the head of all — her son and Andrey.
She heard their voices, Audrey's, soft and humid,
mingled in friendly accord with the heavy bass of her
son:

" Rise up, awake, you workingmen!
On, on, to war, you hungry hosts! '
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MOTHMR

Men ran toward the red flag, raising a clamor; then
joining the others, they marched along, their shouts
lost in the broad sounds of the song of the revolution.

The mother had heard that song before. It had
often been sung in a subdued tone ; and the Little Rus-
sian had often whistled it. But now she seemed for the
first time to hear this appeal to unite in the struggle.

'/ We march to join our suffering mates. "

The song flowed on, embracing the people.

Some one's face, alarmed yet joyous, moved along
beside the mother's, and a trembling voice spoke, sob-
bing:

" Mitya! Where are you going? "

The mother interfered without stopping:
>^'Let him go! Don't be alarmed! Don't fear! I
myself was afraid at first, too. Mine is right at the head
— ^he who bears the standard — ^that's my son! "

" Murderers ! Where are you going? There are
soldiers over there ! " And suddenly clasping the
mother's hand in her bony hands, the tall, thin woman
exclaimed: "My dear! How they sing! Oh, the sec-
tarians ! And Mitya is singing ! "

" Don't be troubled! " murmured the mother. " It's
a sacred. thing.. Think of it! Christ would not have
been, either, if men hadn't perished for his sake."

This thought had flashed across the mother's mind
all of a sudden and struck her by its simple, clear truth.
She stared at the woman, who held her hand firmly in
her clasp, and repeated, smiling:

" Christ would not have been, either, if men hadn't
suflFered for his sake."

Sizov appeared at her side. He took off his hat and
waving it to the measure of the song, said :

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MOTHER

" They're marching openly, eh, mother? And com-
posed a song, too! What a song, mother, eh?".

" The Czar for the army soldiers must have,
Then give him your sons "

" They're not afraid of anything," said Sizov. " And
my son is in the grave. The factory crushed him to
death, yes ! "

The mother's heart beat rapidly, and she began to
lag behind. She was soon pushed aside hard against
a fence, and the close-packed crowd went streaming
past her. She saw that there were many people, and she
was pleased.

". Rise up, awake, ybu workingmen! "

It seemed as if the blare of a mighty brass trumpet
were rousing men and stirring in some hearts the wil-
lingness to fight, in other hearts a vague joy, a premoni-
tion of something new, and a burning curiosity; in still
others a confused tremor of hope and curiosity. The
song was an outlet, too, for the stinging bitterness
accumulated during years.

The people looked ahead, where the red banner was
swinging and streaming in the air. All were saying
something and shouting; but the individual voice was
lost in the song — the new song, in which the old note
of mournful meditation was absent. It was not the utter-
ance of a soul wandering in solitude along the dark
paths of melancholy perplexity, of a soul beaten down
by want, burdened with fear, deprived of individuality,
and colorless. It breathed no sighs of a strength hun-
gering for space ; it shouted no provoking cries of irri-
tated courage ready to crush both the good and the bad
indiscriminately. It did not voice the elemental instinct

222

MOTHER

of the animal to snatch freedom for freedom's sake,
nor the feeling of wrong or vengeance capable of de-
stroying everything and powerless to build up anything.
In this song there was nothing from the old, slavish
world. It floated along directly, evenly; it proclaimed
an iron virility, a calm threat. Simple, clear, it swept
the people after it along an endless path leading to the
far distant future; and it spoke frankly about the hard-
ships of the way. In its steady fire a heavy clod seemed
to burn and melt — the sufferings they had endured, the
dark load of their habitual feelings, their cursed, dread
of what was coming.

"They all join in!" somebody roared exultantly.
"Well done, boys!"

Apparently the man felt something vast, to which he
could not give expression in ordinary words, so he uttered
a stiff oath. Yet the malice, the blind dark malice of a,
slave also streamed hotly through his teeth. Disturbed
by the light shed upon it, it hissed like a snake, writhing
in venomous words.

" Heretics ! " a man with a broken voice shouted from
a window, shaking his fist threateningly.

A piercing scream importunately bored into the
mother's ears — "Jlioting against the emperor, against
his Majesty the Czar? No, no?"

Agitated people flashed quickly past her, a dark lava
stream of men and women, carried along by this song,
which cleared every obstacle out of its path.

Growing in the mother's breast was the mighty desire
to shout to the crowd :

" Oh, my dear people ! "

There, far away from her, was the red banner — she
saw her son without seeing him — his bronzed forehead,
his eyes burning with the bright fire of faith. Now she

223

MOTHSR

was in the tail of the crowd among the people who
walked without hurrying, indifferent, looking ahead
with the cold curiosity of spectators who know before-
hand how the show will end. They spoke softly with
confidence.

"One company of infantry is near the school, and
the other near the factory."

" The governor has come."

"Is that so?"

" I saw him myself. He's here."

Some one swore jovially and said:

" They've begun to fear our fellows, after all, haven't
they ? The soldiers have come and the governor "

" Dear boys ! " throbbed in the breast of the mother.
But the words around her sounded dead and cold. She
hastened her steps to get away from these people, and it
was .not difficult for her to outstrip their lurching gait.

Suddenly the head of the crowd, as it were, bumped
against something; its body swung backward with an
alarming, low hum. The song trembled, then flowed on
more rapidly and louder; but again the dense wave of
sounds hesitated in its forward course. Voices fell out
of the chorus one after the other. Here and there a voice
was raised in the effort to bring the song to its previous
height, to push it forward :

" Rise up, awake, you workingmen!
On, on, to war, you hungry hosts! "

Though she saw nothing and was ignorant of what
was happening there in front, the mother divined, and
elbowed her way rapidly through the crowd.

224

CHAPTER XX

'OMRADES !" the voice of Pavel was heard.
" Soldiers are people the same as ourselves.
They will not strike us ! Why should they
beat us ? Because we bear the truth neces-
sary for all? This our truth is necessary
to them, too. Just now they do not understand this ; but
the time is nearing when they will rise with us, when
they will march, not under the banner of robbers and
murderers, the banner which the liars and beasts order
them to call the banner of glory and honor, but under
our banner of freedom and goodness ! We ought to go
forward so that they should understand our truth the
sooner. Forward, comrades ! Ever forward ! "

Pavel's voice sounded firm, the words rang in the air
distinctly. But the crowd fell asunder; one after the
other the people dropped off to the right or to the left,
going toward their homes, or leaning against the fences.
Now the crowd had the shape of a wedge, and its point
was Pavel, over whose head the banner of the laboring
people was burning red.

At the end of the street, closing the exit to the square,
the mother saw a low, gray wall of men, one just like
the other, without faces. On the shoulder of each a
bayonet was smiling its thin, chill smile; and from this
entire immobile wall a cold gust blew down on the work-
men, striking the breast of the mother and penetrating
her heart.

225

MOTHER

She forced her way into the crowd among people fa-
miliar to her, and, as it were, leaned on them.

She pressed closely against a tall, lame man with a
clean-shaven face. In order to look at her, he had to turn
his head stiffly.

" What do you want? Who are you? " he asked her.

"The mother of Pavel Vlasov," she answered, her
knees trembling beneath her, her lower lip involuntarily
dropping.

" Ha-ha ! " said the lame man. " Very well ! "

" Comrades ! " Pavel cried. " Onward all your lives.
There is no other way for us ! Sing ! "

The atmosphere grew tense. The flag rose and rocked
and waved over the heads of the people, gliding toward
the gray wall of soldiers. The mother trembled. She
closed her eyes, and cried : " Oh — oh ! "

None but Pavel, Andrey, Samoylov, and Mazin ad-
vanced beyond the crowd.

The limpid voice of Fedya Mazin slowly quivered
in the air.

" ' In mortal strife — ' " he began the song.

" ' You victims fell — ' " answered thick, subdued
voices. The words dropped in two heavy sighs. People
stepped forward, each footfall audible. A new song, de-
termined and resolute, burst out:

" You yielded up your lives for them."

Fedya's voice wreathed and curled like a bright
ribbon.

" A-ha-ha-ha ! " some one exclaimed derisively.
" They've struck up a funeral song, the dirty dogs ! "

" Beat him ! " came the angry response.

The mother clasped her hands to her breast, looked
about, and saw that the crowd, before so dense, was now

226

MOTHMR

standing irresolute, watching the comrades walk away
from them with the banner, followed by about a dozen
people, one of whom, however, at every forward move,
jumped aside as if the path in the middle of the street
were red hot and burned his soles.

" The tyranny will fall — " sounded the prophetic song
from the lips of Fedya.

" And the people will rise ! " the chorus of powerful
voices seconded confidently and menacingly.

But the harmonious flow of the song was broken by
the quiet words :

" He is giving orders."

" Charge bayonets ! " came the piercing order from
the front.

The bayonets curved in the air, and glittered sharply ;
then fell and stretched out to confront the banner.

"Ma-arch!"

" They're coming ! " said the lame man, and thrusting
his hands into his pockets made a long step to one side.

The mother, without blinking, looked on. The gray
line of soldiers tossed to and fro, and spread out over the
entire width of the street. It moved on evenly, coolly,
carrying in front of itself a fine-toothed comb of spark-
ling bayonets. Then it came to a stand. The mother
took long steps to get nearer to her son. She saw how
Andrey strode ahead of Pavel and fenced him off with
his long body. " Get alongside of me ! " Pavel shouted
sharply. Andrey was singing, his hands clasped behind
his back, his head uplifted. Pavel pushed him with his
shoulder, and again cried :

" At my side ! Let the banner be in front ! "

" Disperse ! " called a little officer in a thin voice,
brandishing a white saber. He Ufted his feet high, and
without bending his knees struck his soles on the ground

227

MOTHER

irritably. The high polish on his boots caught the eyes
of the mother.

To one side and somewhat behind him walked a tall,
clean-shaven man, with a thick, gray mustache. He wore
a long gray overcoat with a red underlining, and yellow
stripes on his trousers. His gait was heavy, and like the
Little Russian, he clasped his hands behind his back. He
regarded Pavel, raising his thick gray eyebrows.

The mother seemed to be looking into infinity. At
each breath her breast was ready to burst with a loud
cry. It choked her, but for some reason she restrained
it. Her hands clutched at her bosom. She staggered
from repeated thrusts. She walked onward without
thought, almost without consciousness. She felt that
behind her the crowd was getting thinner; a cold wind
had blown on them and scattered them like autumn
leaves.

The men around the red banner moved closer and
closer together. The faces of the soldiers were clearly
seen across the entire width of the street, monstrously
flattened, stretched out in a dirty yellowish band. In
it were unevenly set variously colored eyes, and in front
the sharp bayonets glittered crudely. Directed against
the breasts of the people, although not yet touching them,
they drove them apart, pushing one man after the other
away from the crowd and breaking it up.

Behind her the mother heard the trampling noise of
those who were running away. Suppressed, excited
voices cried:

" Disperse, boys ! "

"Vlasov, run!"

" Back, Pavel ! "

" Drop the banner, Pavel ! " Vyesovshchikov said
glumly. " Give it to me ! I'll hide it ! "

228

MOTHER

He grabbed the pole with his hand ; the flag rocked
backward.

" Let go ! " thundered Pavel.

Nikolay drew his hand back as if it had been burned.
The song died away. Some persons crowded solidly
around Pavel ; but he cut through to the front. A sud-
den silence fell.

Around the banner some twenty men were grouped,
not more, but they stood firmly. The mother felt drawn
to them by awe and by a confused desire to say something
to them.

"Take this thing away from him, lieutenant." The
even voice of the tall old man was heard. He pointed
to the banner. A little officer jumped up to Pavel,
snatched at the flag pole, and shouted shrilly:

"Drop it!"

The red flag trembled in the air, moving to the right
and to the left, then rose again. The little officer jumped
back and sat down. Nikolay darted by the mother, shak-
ing his outstretched fist.

" Seize them ! " the old man roared, stamping his
feet. A few soldiers jumped to the front, one of them
flourishing the butt end of his gun. The baimer
trembled, dropped, and disappeared in a gray mass of
soldiers.

"Oh!" somebody groaned aloud. And the mother
yelled like a wild animal. But the clear voice of Pavel
answered her from out of the crowd of soldiers :

"Good-by, mother! Good-by, dear!"

" He's alive ! He remembered ! " were the two strokes
at the mother's heart.

" Good-by, mother dear ! " came from Audrey.

Waving her hands, she raised herself on tiptoe, and
tried to see them. There was the round face of Audrey

229

MOTHER

above the soldiers' heads. He was smiling and bowing
to her.

"Oh, my dear ones! Andriusha! Pasha!" she
shouted.

" Good-by, comrades ! " they called from among the
soldiers.

A broken, manifold echo responded to them. It re-
sounded from the windows and the roofs.

The mother felt some one pushing her breast.
Through the mist in her eyes she saw the little officer.
His face was red and strained, and he was shouting to
her:

" Clear out of here, old woman ! "

She looked down on him, and at his feet saw the flag
pole broken in two parts, a piece of red cloth on one of
them. She bent down and picked it up. The officer
snatched it out of her hands, threw it aside, and shouted
again, stamping his feet:

" Clear out of here, I tell you ! "

A song sprang up and floated from among the
soldiers :

" Arise, awake, you workingmen! "

Everything was whirling, rocking, trembling. A
thick, alarming noise, resembling the dull hum of tele-
graph wires, filled the air. The officer jumped back,
screaming angrily :

" Stop the singing. Sergeant Kraynov ! "

The mother staggered to the fragment of the pole,
which he had thrown down, and picked it up again.

"Gag them!"

The song became confused, trembled, expired. Some-
body took the mother by the shoulders, turned her
around, and shoved her from the back.

230

MOTHER

" Go, go ! Clear the street ! " shouted the officer.

About ten paces from her, the mother again saw a
thick crowd of people. They were howling, grumbling,
whistling, as they backed down the street. The yards
were drawing in a number of them.

"Go, you devil!" a young soldier with a big mus-
tache shouted right into the mother's ear. He brushed
against her and shoved her onto the sidewalk. She moved
away, leaning on the flag pole. She went quickly and
lightly, but her legs bent under her. In order not to fall
she clung to walls and fences. People in front were
falling back alongside of her, and behind her were sol-
diers, shouting : " Go, go ! "

The soldiers got ahead of her ; she stopped and looked
around. Down the end of the street she saw them again
scattered in a thin chain, blocking the entrance to the
square, which was empty. Farther down were more gray
figures slowly moving against the people. She wanted
to go back ; but uncalculatingly went forward again, and
came to a narrow, empty by-street into which she turned.
She stopped again. She sighed painfully, and listened.
Somewhere ahead she heard the hum of voices. Lean-
ing on the pole she resumed her walk. Her eyebrows
moved up and down, and she suddenly broke into a sweat ;
her lips quivered ; she waved her hands, and certain words
flashed up in her heart like sparks, kindling in her a
strong, stubborn desire to speak them, to shout them.

The by-street turned abruptly to the left ; and around
the corner the mother saw a large, dense crowd of peo-
ple. Somebody's voice was speaking loudly and firmly :

"They don't go to meet the bayonets from sheer
audacity. Remember that!"

" Just look at them. Soldiers advance against them,
and they stand before them without fear. Y-yes ! "

231

MOTHMR

" Think of Pasha Vlasov ! "
" And how about the Little Russian ? "
" Hands, behind his back and smiling, the devil! " .'
" My dear ones ! My people ! " the mother shduted,
pushing into the crowd. They cleared the way for her
respectfully. Somebody laughed:

" Look at her with the flag in her hand ! "
". Shut up ! " said another man sternly.
The mother with a broad sweep of her arms cried
but:

"Listen for the sake of Christ! You are all: dear
people, you are all good people. Open up your hearts.
Look around without fear, without terror. Our children
are going into the world. Our children are going, our
blood is going for the truth; with honesty in their hearts
they, Open the gates of the new road — ^a straigTit,' wide
road for all. For all of you, for the sake, of your young
ones, they have devoted themselves to the sacred cause.
They seek the sun of new days that shall always _ be
bright. They want another life, the life of truth and
justice, of goodness for all."

Her heart was rent asunder, her breast contracted,
her throat was hot and di-y. Deep inside of her, words
were being born, words of a great, all-embracing love.
They burned her tongue, moving it more powerfully. and
more freely. She saw that the people were listening to
her words. All were silent. She felt that they were
thinking as they surrounded her closely; and the desire
grew in her, now a clear desire, to drive these people to
follow her son, to, follow Audrey, to follow all those who
had fallen into .the soldiers' hands, all those who were left
entirely alone, all those who were abandoned. Looking
at the sullen, attentive faces around her, she "resumed with
soft force:

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"'Listen for the sake of Christ.'"

MOTHER

" Our children are going in the world toward hap-
piness. They went for the sake of all, and for Christ's
truth — ^against all with which our malicious, false, ava-
ricious ones have captured, tied, and crushed us. My
dear ones — why it is for you that our young blood rose
— for all the people, for all the world, for all the work-
ingmen, they went! Then don't go away from them,
don't renounce, don't forsake them, don't leave your chil-
dren on a lonely path — ^they went just for the purpose
of showing you all the path to truth, to take all on that
path! Pity yourselves! Love them! Understand the
children's hearts. Believe your sons' hearts; they have
brought forth the truth; it burns in them; they perish
for it. Believe them ! "

Her voice broke down, she staggered, her strength
gone. Somebody seized her under the arms.

" She is speaking God's words ! " a man shouted
hoarsely and excitedly. "God's words, good people!
Listen to her ! "

Another man said in pity of her :

" Look how she's hurting herself ! "

" She's not hurting herself, but hitting us, fools, un-
derstand that ! " was the reproachful reply.

A high-pitched, quavering voice rose up over the
crowd :

" Oh, people of the true faith ! My Mitya, pure soul,
what has he done? He went after his dear comrades.
She speaks truth — why did we forsake our children?
What harm have they done us ? "

The mother trembled at these words and replied with
soft tears.

" Go home, Nilovna ! Go, mother ! You're all worn
out," said Sizov loudly.

He was pale, his disheveled beard shook. Suddenly
233

MOTHER

knitting his brows he threw a stern glance about him on
all, drew himself up to his full height, and said distinctly :

" My son Matvey was crushed in the factory. You
know it ! But were he alive, I myself would have sent
him into the lines of those — along with them. I myself
would have told him: 'Go you, too, Matvey! That's
the right cause, that's the honest cause ! ' "

He stopped abruptly, and a sullen silence fell on all,
in the powerful grip of something huge and new, but
something that no longer frightened them. Sizov lifted
his hand, shook it, and continued:

" It's an old man who is speaking to you. You know
me! I've been working here thirty-nine years, and I've
been alive fifty-three years. To-day they've arrested my
nephew, a pure and intelligent boy. He, too, was in the
front, side by side with Vlasov; right at the banner."
Sizov made a motion with his hand, shrank together, and
said as he took the mother's hand : " This woman spoke
the truth. Our children want to live honorably, accord-
ing to reason, and we have abandoned them ; we walked
away, yes ! Go, Nilovna ! "

" My dear ones ! " she said, looking at them all with
tearful eyes. " The life is for our children and the earth
is for them."

" Go, Nilovna, take this staflf and lean upon it ! " said
Sizov, giving her the fragment of the flag pole.

All looked at the mother with sadness and respect.
A hum of sympathy accompanied her. Sizov silently put
the people out of her way, and they silently moved aside,
obeying a blind impulse to follow her. They walked
after her slowly, exchanging brief, subdued remarks on
the way. Arrived at the gate of her house, she turned
to them, leaning on the fragment of the flag pole, and
bowed in gratitude.

234

MOTHER

" Thank you ! " she said softly. And recalling the
thought which she fancied had been born in her heart,
she said : " Our Lord Jesus Christ would not have been,
either, if people had not perished for his sake."

The crowd looked at her in silence.

She bowed to the people again, and went into her
house, and Sizov, drooping his head, went in with her.

The people stood at the gates and talked. Then they
began to depart slowly and quietly.

:6 23s

PART II

CHAPTER I

'HE day passed in a motley blur of recol-
lections, in a depressing state of exhaus-
tion, which tightly clutched at the mother's
body and soul. The faces of the young
men flashed before her mental vision, the
banner blazed, the songs clamored at her ear, the little
officer skipped about, a gray stain before her eyes, and
through the whirlwind of the procession she saw the
gleam of Pavel's bronzed face and the smiling sky-blue
eyes of Andrey. )(j

She walked up and down the room, sat at the win-
dow, looked out into the street, and walked away again
with lowered eyebrows. Every now and then she started,
and looked about in an aimless search for something.
She drank water, but could not slake her thirst, nor
quench the smoldering fire of anguish and injury in her
bosom. The day was chopped in two. It began full of
meaning and content, but now it dribbled away into a
dismal waste, which stretched before her endlessly. The
question swung to and fro in her barren, perplexed mind :
"What now?"

Korsunova came in. Waving her hands, she shouted,
wept, and went into raptures; stamped her feet, sug-
gested this and that, made promises, and threw out threats
against somebody. All this failed to impress the mother.
" Aha ! " she heard the squeaking voice of Marya.
239

MOTHER

" So the people have been stirred up ! At last the whole
factory has arisen ! All have arisen ! "

" Yes, yes ! " said the mother in a low voice, shaking
her head. Her eyes were fixed on something that had
already fallen into the past, had departed from her along
with Andrey and Pavel. She was unable to weep. Her
heart was dried up, her lips, too, were dry, and her mouth
was parched. Her hands shook, and a cold, fine shiver
ran down her back, setting her skin aquiver.

In the evening the gendarmes came. She met them
without surprise and without fear. They entered noisily,
with a peculiarly jaunty air, and with a look of gayety
and satisfaction in their faces. The yellow-faced officer
said, displaying his teeth:

" Well, how are you ? The third time I have the
honor, eh? "

She was silent, passing her dry tongue along her lips.
The officer talked a great deal, delivering a homily to
her. The mother realized what pleasure he derived from
his words. But they did not reach her ; they did not dis-
turb her; they were like the insistent chirp of a cricket.
It was only when he said : " It's your own fault, little
mother, that you weren't able to inspire your son with
reverence for God and the Czar," that she answered dully,
standing at the door and looking at him : " Yes, our chil-
dren are our judges. They visit just punishment upon
us for abandoning them on such a road."

" Wha-at ? " shouted the officer. " Louder ! "

" I say, the children are our judges," the mother re-
peated with a sigh.

He said something quickly and angrily, but his words
buzzed around her without touching her. Marya Kor-
sunova was a witness. She stood beside the mother, but
did not look at her ; and when the officer turned to her

240

MOTHER

with a question, she invariably answered with a hasty,
low bow : " I don't know, your Honor. I am just a sim-
ple, ignorant woman. I make my living by peddling,
stupid as I am, and I know nothing."

" Shut up, then ! " commanded the officer.

She was ordered to search Vlasova. She blinked her
eyes, then opened them wide on the officer, and said in
fright :

" I can't, your Honor ! "

The officer stamped his feet and began to shout.
Marya lowered her eyes, and pleaded with the mother
softly :

"Well, what can be done? You have to submit,
Pelagueya Nilovna."

As she searched and felt the mother's dress, the blood
mounting to her face, she murmured :

" Oh, the dogs ! "

"What are you jabbering about there?" the officer
cried rudely, looking into the corner where she was mak-
ing the search.

" It's about women's affairs, your Honor," mumbled
Marya, terrorized.

On his order to sign the search warrant the mother,
with unskilled hand, traced on the paper in printed shin-
ing letters :

" Pelagueya Nilovna, widow of a workingman."

They went away, and the mother remained standing
at the window. With her hands folded over her breast,
she gazed into vacancy without winking, her eyebrows
raised. Her lips were compressed, her jaws so tightly
set that her teeth began to pain her. The oil burned
down in the lamp, the light flared up for a moment, and
then went out. She blew on it, and remained in the
dark. She felt no malice, she harbored no sense of in-

241

MOTHER

jury in her heart. A dark, cold cloud of melancholy set-
tled on her breast, and impeded the beating of her heart.
Her mind was a void. She stood at the window a long
time; her feet and eyes grew weary. She heard Marya
stop at the window, and shout : " Are you asleep, Pela-
gueya ? You unfortunate, suffering woman, sleep ! They
abuse everybody, the heretics ! " At last she dropped into
bed without undressing, and quickly fell into a heavy
sleep, as if she had plunged into a deep abyss.

She dreamed she saw a yellow sandy mound beyond
the marsh on the road to the city. At the edge, which
descended perpendicularly to the ditch, from which sand
was being taken, stood Pavel singing softly and sono-
rously with the voice of Audrey:

" Rise up, awake, you workingmen! "

She walked past the mound along the road to the city,
and putting her hand to her forehead looked at her son.
His figure was clearly and sharply outlined against the
sky. She could not make up her mind to go up to him.
She was ashamed because she was pregnant. And she
held an infant in her arms, besides. She walked farther
on. Children were playing ball in the field. There were
many of them, and the ball was a red one. The infant
threw himself forward out of her arms toward them,
and began to cry aloud. She gave him the breast, and
turned back. Now soldiers were already at the mound,
and they turned the bayonets against her. She ran
quickly to the church standing in the middle of the field,
the white, light church that seemed to be constructed
out of clouds, and was immeasurably high. A funeral
was going on there. The coffin was wide, black, and
tightly covered with a lid. The priest and deacon walked
around in white canonicals and sang :

242

MOTHER

" Christ has arisen from the dead."

The deacon carried the incense, bowed to her, and
smiled. His hair was glaringly red, and his face jovial,
like Samoylov's. From the top of the dome broad sun-
beams descended to the ground. In both choirs the boys
sang softly:

" Christ has arisen from the dead."

" Arrest them ! " the priest suddenly cried, standing
up in the middle of the church. His vestments vanished
from his body, and a gray, stem mustache appeared on
his face. All the people started to run, and the deacon,
flinging the censer aside, rushed forward, seizing his
head in his hands like the Little Russian. The mother
dropped the infant on the ground at the feet of the
people. They ran to the side of her, timidly regard-
ing the naked little body. She fell on her knees and
shouted to them: "Don't abandon the child! Take it
with you ! "

" Christ has arisen from the dead," the Little Russian
sang, holding his hands behind his back, and smiling. He
bent down, took the child, and put it on the wagon loaded
with timber, at the side of which Nikolay was walking
slowly, shaking with laughter. , He said :

" They have given me hard work."

The street was muddy, the people thrust their faces
from the windows of the houses, and whistled, shouted,
waved their hands. The day was clear, the sun shone
brightly, and there was not a single shadow anywhere.

" Sing, mother ! " said the Little Russian. " Oh, what
a life!"

And he sang, drowning all the other sounds with his
kind, laughing voice. The mother walked behind him,
and complained:

"Why does he make fun of me?"
243

MOTHMR

But suddenly she stumbled and fell in a bottomless
abyss. Fearful shrieks met her in her descent.

She awoke, shivering and yet perspiring. She put
her ear, as it were, to her own breast, and marveled at
the emptiness that prevailed there. The whistle blew in-
sistently. From its sound she realized that it was already
the second summons. The room was all in disorder ; the
books and clothes lay about in confusion ; everything was
turned upside down, and dirt was trampled over the
entire floor.

She arose, and without washing or praying began to
set the room in order. In the kitchen she caught sight
of the stick with the piece of red cloth. She seized it
angrily, and was about to throw it away under the oven,
but instead, with a sigh, removed the remnant of the flag
from the pole, folded it carefully, and put it in her
pocket. Then she began to wash the windows with cold
water, next the floor, and finally herself; then dressed
herself and prepared the samovar. She sat down at the
window in the kitchen, and once more the question came
to her :

"What now? What am I to do now?"

Recollecting that she had not yet said her prayers, she
walked up to the images, and after standing before them
for a few seconds, she sat down again. Her heart was
empty.

The pendulum, which always beat with an energy
seeming to say : " I must get to the goal ! I must get
to the goal ! " slackened its hasty ticking. The flies
buzzed irresolutely, as if pondering a certain plan of
action.

Suddenly she recalled a picture she had once seen
in the days of her youth. In the old park of the Zansay-
lovs, there was a large pond densely overgrown with

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water lilies. One gray day in the fall, while walking
along the pond, she had seen a boat in the middle of
it. The pond was dark and calm, and the boat seemed
glued to the black water, thickly strewn with yellow
leaves. Profound sadness and a vague sense of mis-
fortune were wafted from that boat without a rower
and without oars, standing alone and motionless out
there on the dull water amid the dead leaves. The
mother had stood a long time at the edge of the pond
meditating as to who had pushed the boat from the
shore and why. Now it seemed to her that she herself
was like that boat, which at the time had reminded her
of a coffin waiting for its dead. In the evening of the
same day she had learned that the wife of one of Zan-
saylov's clerks had been drowned in the pond — a little
woman with black disheveled hair, who always walked
at a brisk gait.

The mother passed her hands over her eyes as if to
rub her reminiscences away, and her thoughts fluttered
like a varicolored ribbon. Overcome by her impressions
of the day before, she sat for a long time, her eyes fixed
upon the cup of tea grown cold. Gradually the desire
came to see some wise, simple person, speak to him, and
ask him many things.

As if in answer to her wish, Nikolay Ivanovich came
in after dinner. When she saw him, however, she was
suddenly seized with alarm, and failed to respond to his
greeting.

" Oh, my friend," she said softly, " there was no use
for you to come here. If they arrest you here, too,
then that will be the end of Pasha altogether. It's very
careless of you! They'll take you without fail if they
see you here."

He clasped her hand tightly, adjusted his glasses on
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his nose, and bending his face close to her, explained
to her in haste :

" I made an agreement with Pavel and Andrey, that
if they were arrested, I must see that you move over
to the city the very next day." He spoke kindly, but
with a troiibled air. "Did they make a search in your
house ? "

"They did. They rummaged, searched, and nosed
around. Those people have no shame, no conscience!"
exclaimed the mother indignantly.

" What do they need shame for ? " said Nikolay with
a shrug of his shoulders, and explained to her the neces-
sity of her going to the city.

His friendly, solicitous talk moved and agitated her.
She looked at him with a pale smile, and wondered at
the kindly feeling of confidence he inspired in her.

" If Pasha wants it, and I'll be no inconvenience to
you "

" Don't be uneasy on that score. I live all alone ; my
sister comes over only rarely."

" I'm not going to eat my head off for nothing," she
said, thinking aloud.

" If you want to work, you'll find something to do."

Her conception of work was now indissolubly con-
nected with the work that her son, Andrey, and their
comrades were doing. She moved a little toward Niko-
lay, and looking in his eyes, asked :

" Yes ? You say work will be found for me ? "

" My household is a small one, I am a bachelor "

" I'm not talking about that, not about housework,"
she said quietly. " I mean world work."

And she heaved a melancholy sigh, stung and repelled
by his failure to understand her. He rose, and bending
toward her, with a smile in his nearsighted eyes, he said

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thoughtfully, "You'll find a place for yourself in the
work world, too, if you want it."

Her mind quickly formulated the simple and clear
thought : " Once I was able to help Pavel ; perhaps I will
succeed again. The greater the number of those who
work for his cause, the clearer will his truth come out
before the people."

But these thoughts did not fully express the whole
force and complexity of her desire.

" What could I do ? " she asked quietly.

He thought a while, and then began to explain the
technical details of the revolutionary work. Among other
things, he said :

" If, when you go to see Pavel in prison, you tried to
find out from him the address of the peasant who asked
for a newspaper "

" I know it ! " exclaimed the mother in delight. " I
know where they are, and who they are. Give me the
papers, I'll deliver them. I'll find the peasants, and do
everything just as you say. Who will think that I
carry illegal books? I carried books to the factory. I
smuggled in more than a hundred pounds. Heaven be
praised ! "

The desire came upon her to travel along the road,
through forests and villages, with a birch-bark sack over
her shoulders, and a staff in her hand.

" Now, you dear, dear man, you just arrange it for
me, arrange it so that I can work in this movement. I'll
go everywhere for you! I'll keep going summer and
winter, down to my very grave, a pilgrim for the sake
of truth. Why, isn't that a splendid lot for a woman like
me? The wanderer's life is a good life. He goes about
through the world, he has nothing, he needs nothing ex-
cept bread, no one abuses him, and so. quietly, unnoticed,

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he roves over the earth. And so I'll go, too ; I'll go to
Andrey, to Pasha, wherever they live."

She was seized with sadness when she saw herself
homeless, begging for alms, in the name of Christ, at
the windows of the village cottages. >

Nikolay took her hand gently, and stroked it with
his warm hand. Then, looking at the watch, he said :

"We'll speak about that later. You are taking a
dangerous burden upon your shoulders. You must con-
sider very carefully what you intend doing."

" My dear man, what have I to consider? What have
I to live for if not for this cause? Of what use am I
to anybody ? A tree grows, it gives shade ; it's split into
wood, and it warms people. Even a mere dumb tree is
helpful to life, and I am a human being. The children, the
best blood of man, the best there is of our hearts, give
up their liberty and their lives, perish without pity for
themselves ! And I, a mother — am I to stand by and do
nothing?"

The picture of her son marching at the head of the
crowd with the banner in his hands flashed before her
mind.

"Why should I lie idle when my son gives up his
life for the sake of truth ? I know now — I know that he
is working for the truth. It's the fifth year now that I
live beside the woodpile. My heart has melted and
begun to burn. I understand what you are striving for.
I see what a burden you all carry on your shoulders.
Take me to you, too, for the sake of Christ, that I may
be able to help my son ! Take me to you ! "

Nikolay's face grew pale ; he heaved a deep sigh, and
smiling, said, looking at her with sympathetic attention:

" This is the first time I've heard such words."

" What can I say ? " she replied, shaking her head
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sadly, and spreading her hands in a gesture of impotence,
" If I had the words to express my mother's heart — "
She arose, lifted by the power that waxed in her breast,
intoxicated her, and gave her the words to express her
indignation. " Then many and many a one would weep,
and even the wicked, the men without conscience would
tremble! I would make them taste gall, even as they
made Christ drink of the cup of bitterness, and as they
now do our children. They have bruised a mother's
heart!"

Nikolay rose, and pulling his little beard with trem-
bling fingers, he said slowly in an unfamiliar tone of
voice :

" Some day you will speak to them, I think ! "

He started, looked at his watch again, and asked in
a hurry:

" So it's settled ? You'll come over to me in the
city?"

She silently nodded her head.

" When ? Try to do it as soon as possible." And he
added in a tender voice : " I'll he anxious for you ; yes,
indeed!"

She looked at him in surprise. What was she to him ?
With bent head, smiling in embarrassment, he stood be-
fore her, dressed in a simple black jacket, stooping, near-
sighted.

" Have you money ? " he asked, dropping his eyes.

" No."

He quickly whipped his purse out of his pocket,
opened it, and handed it to her.

" Here, please take some."

She smiled involuntarily, and shaking her head, ob-
served:

" Everything about all of you is different from other
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MOTHER

people. Even money has no value for you. People do
anything to get money ; they kill their souls for it. But
for you money is so many little pieces of paper, little bits
of copper. You seem to keep it by you just out of kind-
ness to people."

Nikolay Ivanovich laughed softly.

" It's an awfully bothersome article, money is. Both
to take it and to give it is embarrassing."

He caught her hand, pressed it warmly, and asked
again :

" So you will try to come soon, won't you ? "

And he walked away quietly, as was his wont.

She got herself ready to go to him on the fourth day
after his visit. When the cart with her two trunks rolled
out of the village into the open country, she turned her
head back, and suddenly had the feeling that she was
leaving the place forever — the place where she had passed
the darkest and most burdensome period of her life, the
place where that other varied life had begun, in which
the next day swallowed up the day before, and each was
filled by an abundance of new sorrows and new joys,
new thoughts and new feelings.

The factory spread itself like a huge, clumsy, dark-
red spider, raising its lofty smokestacks high up into the
sky. The small one-storied houses pressed against it,
gray, flattened out on the soot-covered ground, and
crowded up in close clusters on the edge of the marsh.
They looked sorrowfully at one another with their little
dull windows. Above them rose the church, also dark
red like the factory. The belfry, it seemed to her, was
lower than the factory chimneys.

The mother sighed, and adjusted the collar of her
dress, which choked her. She felt sad, but it was a dry
sadness like the dust of the hot day.

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MOTHMR

" Gee ! " mumbled the driver, shaking the reins over
the horse. He was a bow-legged man of uncertain
height, with sparse, faded hair on his face and head,
and faded eyes. Swinging from side to side he walked
alongside the wagon. It was evidently a matter of in-
difference to him whether he went to the right or the
left.

" Gee ! " he called in a colorless voice, with a comical
forward stride of his crooked legs clothed in heavy boots,
to which clods of mud were clinging. The mother looked
around. The country was as bleak and dreary as her
soul.

" You'll never escape want, no matter where you go,
auntie," the driver said dully. " There's no road leading
away from poverty; all roads lead to it, and none out
of it."

Shaking its head dejectedly the horse sank its feet
heavily into the deep sun-dried sand, which crackled
softly under its tread. The rickety wagon creaked for
lack of greasing.

17 251

CHAPTER II

'IKOLAY IVANOVICH lived on a quiet,
deserted street, in a little green wing an-
nexed to a black two-storied structure
swollen with age. In front of the wing
was a thickly grown little garden, and
branches of lilac bushes, acacias, and silvery young pop-
lars looked benignly and freshly into the windows of the
three rooms occupied by Nikolay. It was quiet and tidy
in his place. The shadows trembled mutely on the floor,
shelves closely set with books stretched across the walls,
and portraits of stern, serious persons hung over them.
" Do you think you'll find it convenient here ? " asked
Nikolay, leading the mother into a little room with one
window giving on the garden and another on the grass-
grown yard. In this room, too, the walls were lined
with bookcases and bookshelves.

" I'd rather be in the kitchen," she said. " The little
kitchen is bright and clean."

It seemed to her that he grew rather frightened.
And when she yielded to his awkward and embarrassed
persuasions to take the room, he immediately cheered up.
There was a peculiar atmosphere pervading all the
three rooms. It was easy and pleasant to breathe in
them; but one's voice involuntarily dropped a note in
the wish not to speak aloud and intrude upon the peace-
ful thoughtfulness of the people who sent down a con-
centrated look from the walls.

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MOTHER

The flowers need watering," said the mother, feel-
ing the earth in the flowerpots in the windows.

" Yes, yes," said the master guiltily. " I love them
very much, but I have no time to take care of them."

The mother noticed that Nikolay walked about in his
own comfortable quarters just as carefully and as noise-
lessly as if he were a stranger, and as if all that sur-
rounded him were remote from him. He would pick up
and examine some small article, such as a bust, bring
it close to his face, and scrutinize it minutely, adjusting
his glasses with the thin finger of his right hand, and
screwing up his eyes. He had the appearance of just
having entered the rooms for the first time, and every-
thing seemed as unfamiliar and strange to him as to the
mother. Consequently, the mother at once felt herself
at home. She followed Nikolay, observing where each
thing stood, and inquiring about his ways and habits
of life. He answered with the guilty air of a man who
knows he is all the time doing things as they ought not
to be done, but cannot help himself.

After she had watered the flowers and arranged the
sheets of music scattered in disorder over the piano, she
looked at the samovar, and remarked, "It needs pol-
ishing."

Nikolay ran his finger over the dull metal, then stuck
the finger close to his nose. He looked at the mother
so seriously that she could not restrain a good-natured
smile.

When she lay down to sleep and thought of the
day just past, she raised her head from the pillow in
astonishment and looked around. For the first time in
her life she was in the house of a stranger, and she did
not experience the least constraint. Her mind dwelt
solicitously on Nikolay. She had a distinct desire to do

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MOTHER

the best she could for him, and to introduce more warmth
into his lonely life. She was stirred and affected by his
embarrassed awkwardness and droll ignorance, and
smiled to herself with a sigh. Then her thoughts leaped
to her son and to Andrey. She recalled the high-pitched,
sparkling voice of Fedya, and gradually the whole day
of the first of May unrolled itself before her, clothed in
new sounds, reflecting new thoughts. The trials of the
day were peculiar as the day itself. They did not bring
her head to the ground as with the dull, stunning blow
of the fist. They stabbed the heart with a thousand
pricks, and called forth in her a quiet wrath, opening
her eyes and straightening her backbone.

" Children go in the world," she thought as she lis-
tened to the unfamiliar nocturnal sounds of the city.
They crept through the open window like a sigh from
afar, stirring the leaves in the garden and faintly ex-
piring in the room.

Early in the morning she polished up the samovar,
made a fire in it, and filled it with water, and noiselessly
placed the dishes on the table. Then she sat down in
the kitchen and waited for Nikolay to rise. Presently
she heard him cough. He appeared at the door, holding
his glasses in one hand, the other hand at his throat.
She responded to his greeting, and brought the samo-
var into the room. He began to wash himself, splash-
ing the water on the floor, dropping the soap and his
toothbrush, and grumbling in dissatisfaction at him-
self.

When they sat down to drink tea, he said to the
mother :

" I am employed in the Zemstvo board — a very sad
occupation. I see the way our peasants are going to
ruin."

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MOTHBR

And smiling he repeated guiltily : " It's literally so-r-
I see ! People go hungry, they lie down in their graves
prematurely, starved to death, children are born feeble
and sick, and drop like flies in autumn — we know all
this, we know the causes of this wretchedness, and for
observing it we receive a good salary. But that's all
we do, really ; truly all we do."

" And what are you, a student ? "

" No. I'm a village teacher. My father was super-
intendent in a mill in Vyatka, and I became a teacher.
But I began to give books to the peasants in the village,
and was put in prison for it. When I came out of prison
I became clerk in a bookstore, but not behaving care-
fully enough I got myself into prison again, and was
then exiled to Archangel. There I also got into trouble
with the governor, and they .sent me to the White Sea
coast, where I lived for five years."

His talk sounded calm and even in the bright room
flooded with sunlight. The mother had already heard
many such stories; but she could never understand why
they were related with such composure, why no blame
was laid on anybody for the suffering the people had
gone through, why these sufferings were regarded as
so inevitable.

" My sister is coming to-day," he announced.

" Is she married ? "

" She's a widow. Her husband was exiled to Siberia ;
but he escaped, caught a severe cold on the way, and
died abroad two years ago."

" Is she younger than you ? "

" Six years older. I owe a great deal to her. Wait,
and you'll hear how she plays. That's her piano. There
are a whole lot of her things here, my books "

" Where does she live ? "
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MOTHMR

" Everywhere," he answered with a smile. " Where-
ever a brave soul is needed, there's where you'll find her."

" Also in this movement ? "

" Yes, of course."

He soon left to go to work, and the mother fell to
thinking of "that movement" for which the people
worked, day in, day out, calmly and resolutely. When
confronting them she seemed to stand before a mountain
looming in the dark.

About noon a tall, well-built lady came. When the
mother opened the door for her she threw a little yellow
valise on the floor, and quickly seizing Vlasova's hand,
asked :

"Are you the mother of Pavel Mikhaylovich?"

" Yes, I am," the mother replied, embarrassed by the
lady's rich appearance.

" That's the way I imagined you," said the lady, re-
moving her hat in front of the mirror. " We have been
friends of Pavel Mikhaylovich a long time. He spoke
about you often."

Her voice was somewhat dull, and she spoke slowly;
but her movements were quick and vigorous. Her large,
limpid gray eyes smiled youthfully; on her temples,
however, thin radiate wrinkles were already limned, and
silver hairs glistened over her ears.

" I'm hungry ; can I have a cup of coffee ? "

"I'll make it for you at once." The mother took
down the coffee apparatus from the shelf and quietly
asked :

" Did Pasha speak about me ? "

"Yes, indeed, a great deal." The lady took out a
little leather cigarette case, lighted a cigarette, and in-
quired: "You're extremely uneasy about him, aren't
you?"

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MOTHMR

The mother smiled, watching the blue, quivering
flame of the spirit lamp. Her embarrassment at the
presence of the lady vanished in the depths of her joy.

" So he talks about me, my dear son ! " she thought.

" You asked me whether I'm uneasy ? Of course, it's
not easy for me. But it would have been worse some time
ago; now I know that he's not alone, and that even I
am not alone." Looking into the lady's face, she asked :
" What is your name ? "

" Sofya," the lady answered, and began to speak in
a businesslike way. "The most important thing is that
they should not stay in prison long, but that the trial
should come off very soon. The moment they are exiled,
we'll arrange an escape for Pavel Mikhaylovich. There's
nothing for him to do in Siberia, and he's indispensable
here."

The mother incredulously regarded Sofya, who was
searching about for a place into which to drop her cigar-
ette stump, and finally threw it in a flowerpot.

"That'll spoil the flowers," the mother remarked
mechanically.

"Excuse me," said Sofya simply. " Nikolay always
tells me the same thing." She picked up the stump and
threw it out of the window. The mother looked at her
in embarrassment, and said guiltily:

"You must excuse me. I said it without thinking.
Is it in my place to teach you ? "

" Why not ? Why not teach me, if I'm a sloven ? "
Sofya calmly queried with a shrug. " I know it ; but I
always forget — ^the worse for me. It's an ugly habit —
to throw cigarette stumps any and everywhere, and to lit-
ter up places with ashes — ^particularly in a woman. Clean-
liness in a room is the result of work, and all work ought
to be respected. Is the coffee ready ? Thank you ! Why

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MOTHER

one cup ? Won't you have any ? " Suddenly seizing the
mother by the shoulder, she drew her to herself, and
looking into her eyes asked in surprise : " Why, are you
embarrassed ? "

The mother answered with a smile:

" I just blamed you for throwing the cigarette stump
away — does that look as if I were embarrassed?" Her
surprise was unconcealed. " I came to your house only
yesterday, but I behave as if I were at home, and as if
I had known you a long time. I'm afraid of nothing;
I say anything. I even find fault."

" That's the way it ought to be."

" My head's in a whirl. I seem to be a stranger to
myself. Formerly I didn't dare speak out from my
heart until I'd been with a person a long, long time.
And now my heart is always open, and I at once say
things I wouldn't have dreamed of before, and a lot of
things, too." Sofya lit another cigarette, turning the kind
glance of her gray eyes on the mother. " Yes, you speak
of arranging an escape. But how will he be able to live
as a fugitive ? " The mother finally gave expression to
the thought that was agitating her.

" That's a trifle," Sofya remarked, pouring out a cup
of coffee for herself. " He'll live as scores of other fugi-
tives live. I just met one, and saw him off. Another
very valuable man, who worked for the movement in the
south. He was exiled for five years, but remained only
three and a half months. That's why I look such a
grande dame. Do you think I always dress this way?
I can't bear this fine toggery, this sumptuous rustle. A
human being is simple by nature, and should dress simply
— ^beautifully but simply."

The mother looked at her fixedly, smiled, and shaking
her head meditatively said :

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MOTHER

" No, it seems that day, the first of May, has changed
me. I feel awkward somehow or other, as if I were walk-
ing on two roads at the same time. At one moment I
understand everything; the next moment I am plunged
into a mist. Here are you ! I see you a lady ; you oc-
cupy yourself with this movement, you know Pasha, and
you esteem him. Thank you ! "

" Why, you ought to be thanked ! " Sofya laughed.

" I ? I didn't teach him about the movement," the
mother said with a sigh. "As I speak now," she con-
tinued stubbornly, "everything seems simple and near.
Then, all of a sudden, I cannot understand this simplicity.
Again, I'm calm. In a second I grow fearful, because
I am calm. I always used to be afraid, my whole life
long; but now that there's a great deal to be afraid of,
I have very little fear. Why is it? I cannot under-
stand." She stopped, at a loss for words. Sofya looked
at her seriously, and waited ; but seeing that the mother
was agitated, unable to find the expression she wanted,
she herself took up the conversation.

"A time will come when you'll understand every-
thing. The chief thing that gives a person power and
faith in himself is when he begins to love a certain cause
with all his heart, and knows it is a good cause of use
to everybody. There is such a love. There's every-
thing. There's no human being too mean to love. But
it's time for me to be getting out of all this magnificence."

Putting the stump of her cigarette in the saucer, she
shook her head. Her golden hair fell back in thick
waves. She walked away smiling. The mother fol-
lowed her with her eyes, sighed, and looked around.
Her thoughts came to a halt, and in a half-drowsy, op-
pressive condition of quiet, she began to get the dishes
together.

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MOTHER

At four o'clock Nikolay appeared. Then they dined.
Sofya, laughing at times, told how she met and concealed
the fugitive, how she feared the spies, and saw one in
every person she met, and how comically the fugitive
conducted himself. Something in her tone reminded
the mother of the boasting of a workingman who had
completed a difficult piece of work to his own satisfac-
tion. She was now dressed in a flowing, dove-colored
robe, which fell from her shoulders to her feet in warm
waves. The effect was soft and noiseless. She appeared
to be taller in this dress; her eyes seemed darker, and
her movements less nervous.

" Now, Sofya," said Nikolay after dinner, " here's
another job for you. You know we undertook to pub-
lish a newspaper for the village. But our connection
with the people there was broken, thanks to the latest
arrests. No one but Pelagueya Nilovna can show us the
man who will undertake the distribution of the news-
papers. You go with her. Do it as soon as possible."

" Very well," said Sofya. " We'll go, Pelagueya
Nilovna."

" Yes, we'll go."

" Is it far? "

" About fifty miles."

" Splendid ! And now I'm going to play a little. Do
you mind listening to music, Pelagueya Nilovna ? "

" Don't bother about me. Act as if I weren't here,"
said the mother, seating herself in the comer of the sofa.
She saw that the brother and the sister went on with
their affairs without giving heed to her; yet, at the same
time, she seemed involuntarily to mix in their conversa-
tion, imperceptibly drawn into it by them.

" Listen to this, Nikolay. It's by Grieg. I brought
it to-day. Shut the window."

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MOTHMR

She opened the piano, and struck the keys lightly
with her left hand. The strings sang out a thick, juicy
melody. Another note, breathing a deep, full breath,
joined itself to the first, and together they formed
a vast fullness of sound that trembled beneath its own
weight. Strange, limpid notes rang out from under the
fingers of her right hand, and darted ofif in an alarming
flight, swaying and rocking and beating against one an-
other like a swarm of frightened birds. And in the dark
background the low notes sang in measured, harmoni-
ous cadence like the waves of the sea exhausted by the
storm. Some one cried out, a loud, agitated, woeful cry
of rebellion, questioned and appealed in impotent an-
guish, and, losing hope, grew silent; and then again
sang his rueful plaints, now resonant and clear, now
subdued and dejected. In response to this song came
the thick waves of dark sound, broad and resonant, in-
different and hopeless. They drowned by their depth
and force the swarm of ringing wails ; questions, appeals,
groans blended in the alarming song. At times the
music seemed to take a desperate upward flight, sob-
bing and lamenting, and again precipitated itself, crept
low, swung hither and thither on the dense, vibratory
current of bass notes, foundered, and disappeared in
them; and once more breaking through to an even ca-
dence, in a hopeless, calm rumble, it grew in volume,
pealed forth, and melted and dissolved in the broad flour-
ish of humid notes — which continued to sigh with equal
force and calmness, never wearying.

At first the sounds failed to touch the mother. They
were incomprehensible to her, nothing but a ringing
chaos. Her ear could not gather a melody from the in-
tricate mass of notes. Half asleep she looked at Nikolay
sitting with his feet crossed under him at the other end

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MOTHER

of the long sofa, and at the severe profile of Sofya with
her head enveloped in a mass of golden hair. The sun
shone into the room. A single ray, trembling pensively,
at first lighted up her hair and shoulder, then settled
upon the keys of the piano, and quivered under the pres-
sure of her fingers. The branches of the acacia rocked
to and fro outside the window. The room became
music-filled, and unawares to her, the mother's heart
was stirred. Three notes of nearly the same pitch,
resonant as the voice of Fedya Mazin, sparkled in the
stream of sounds, like three silvery fish in a brook. At
times another note united with these in a simple song,
which enfolded the heart in a kind yet sad caress. She
began to watch for them, to await their warble, and she
heard only their music, distinguished from the tumultu-
ous chaos of sound, to which her ears gradually became
deaf.

And for some reason there rose before her out of the
obscure depths of her past, wrongs long forgotten.

Once her husband came home late, extremely intoxi-
cated. He grasped her hand, threw her from the bed
to the floor, kicked her in the side with his foot, and
said:

" Get out! I'm sick of you! Get out! "

In order to protect herself from his blows, she quick-
ly gathered her two-year-old son into her arms, and
kneeling covered herself with his body as with a shield.
He cried, struggled in her arms, frightened, naked, and
warm.

" Get out! " bellowed her husband.

She jumped to her feet, rushed into the kitchen, threw
a jacket over her shoulders, wrapped the baby in a
shawl, and silently, without outcries or complaints, bare-
fojDt, in nothing but a shirt under her jacket, walked out

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MOTHMR

into the street. It was in the month of May, and the
night was fresh. The cold, damp dust of the street
stuck to her feet, and got between her toes. The child
wept and struggled. She opened her breast, pressed her
son to her body, and pursued by fear walked down the
street, quietly lulling the baby.

It began to grow light. She was afraid and ashamed
lest some one come out on the street and see her half
naked. She turned toward the marsh, and sat down on
the ground under a thick group of aspens. She sat
there for a long time, embraced by the night, motionless,
looking into the darkness with wide-open eyes, and
timidly wailing a lullaby — a. lullaby for her baby, which
had fallen asleep, and a lullaby for her outraged heart.

A gray bird darted over her head, and flew far away.
It awakened her, and brought her to her feet. Then,
shivering with cold, she walked home to confront the
horror of blows and new insults*

For the last time a heavy and resonant chord heaved
a deep breath, indifferent and cold; it sighed and died
away.

Sofya turned around, and asked her brother softly:

"Did you like it?"

"Very much," he said, nodding his head. "Very
much."

Sofya looked at the mother's face, but said nothing.

"They say," said Nikolay thoughtfully, throwing
himself deeper baick on the sofa, " that you should listen
to music without thinking. But I can't."

" Nor can I," said Sofya, striking a melodious chord.

"I listened, and it seemed to me that people were
putting their questions to nature, that they grieved and
groaned, and protested angrily, and shouted, 'Why?'
Nature does not answer, but goes on calmly creating,

263

moth:br

incessantly, forever. In her silence is heard her answer:
' I do not know.' "

The mother listened to Nikolay's quiet words with-
out understanding them, and without desiring to un-
derstand. Her bosom echoed with her reminiscences,
and she wanted more music. Side by side with her
memories the thought unfolded itself before her: " Here
live people, a brother and sister, in friendship; they
live peacefully and calmly — they have music and books
— ^they don't swear at . each other — they don't drink
whisky — ^they don't quarrel for a relish — ^they have no
desire to insult each other, the way all the people at the
bottom do."

Sofya quickly lighted a cigarette; she smoked almost
without intermission.

" This used to be the favorite piece of Kostya," she
said, as a veil of smoke quickly enveloped her. She
again struck a low mournful chord. " How I used to
love to play for him ! You remember how well he
translated music into language? " She paused and
smiled. " How sensitive he was ! What fine feelings he
had — so responsive to everything — so fully a man! "

" She must be recalling memories of her husband,"
the mother noted, " and she smiles ! "

"How much happiness^ that man gave me!" said.
Sofya in a low voice, accompanying her words with light
sounds on the keys. " What a capacity he had for living!
He was always aglow with joy, buoyant, childlike joy! "

" Childlike," repeated the mother to herself, and
shook her head as if agreeing with something.

" Ye-es," said Nikolay, pulling his beard, " his soul
was always singing." *

"When I played this piece for him the first time,
he put it in these words." Sofya turned her face to her

264

MOTHMR

brother, and slowly stretched out her arms. Encircled
with blue streaks of smoke, she spoke in a low, raptur-
ous voice. " In a barren sea of the far north, under the
gray canopy of the cold heavens, stands a lonely black
island, an unpeopled rock, covered with ice; the smooth-
ly polished shore descends abruptly into the gray, foam-
ing billows. The transparently blue blocks of ice in-
hospitably float on the shaking cold water and press
against the dark rock of the island. Their knocking
resounds mournfully in the dead stillness of the barren
sea. They have been floating a long time on the bot-
tomless depths, and the waves splashing about them
have quietly borne them toward the lonely rock in the
midst of the sea. The sound is grewsome as they break
against the shore and against one another, sadly in-
quiring: 'Why?'"

Sofya flung away the cigarette she had begun to
smoke, turned to the piano, and again began to play the
ringing plaints, the plaints of the lonely blocks of ice
by the shore of the barren island in the sea of the far
north.

The mother was overcome with unendurable sadness
as she listened to the simple sketch. It blended strange-
ly with her past, into which her recollections kept boring
deeper aiid deeper.

"In music one can hear everything," said Nikolay
quietly.

Sofya turned toward the mother, and asked:

" Do you mind my noise? "

The mother was unable to restrain her slight irrita-
tion.

" I told you not to pay any attention to me. I sit
here and listen and think about myself."

" No, you ought to understand," said Sofya. " A
265

MOTHER

woman can't help understanding music, especially when
in grief."

She struck the keys powerfully, and a loud shout
went forth, as if some one had suddenly heard horrible
news, which pierced him to the heart, and wrenched
from him this troubled sound. Young voices trembled
in affright, people rushed about in haste, pellmell.
Again a loud, angry voice shouted out, drowning all
other sounds. Apparently a catastrophe had occurred,
in which the chief source of pain was an affront offered
to some one. It evoked not complaints, but wrath.
Then some kindly and powerful person appeared, who
began to sing, just like Audrey, a simple beautiful
song, a song of exhortation and summons to himself.
The voices of the bass notes grumbled in a dull,
offended tone.

Sofya played a long time. The music disquieted the
mother, and aroused in her a desire to ask of what it
was speaking. Indistinct sensations and thoughts passed
through her mind in quick succession. Sadness and
anxiety gave place to moments of calm joy. A swarm of
unseen birds seemed to be flying about in the room,
penetrating everywhere, touching the heart with caress-
ing wings, soothing and at the same time alarming it.
The feelings in the mother's breast could not be fixed
in words. They emboldened her heart with perplexed
hopes, they fondled it in a fresh and firm embrace.

A kindly impulse came to her to say something good
both to these two persons and to all people in general.
She smiled softly, intoxicated by the music, feeling her-
self capable of doing work helpful to the brother and
sister. Her eyes roved about in search of something to
do for them. She saw nothing but to walk out into the
kitchen quietly, and prepare the samovar. But this did

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MOTHER

not satisfy her desire. It struggled stubbornly in her
breast, and as she poured out the tea she began to speak
excitedly with an agitated ..smile. She seemed to be-
stow the words as a warm caress impartially on Sofya
and Nikolay and on herself.

" We people at the bottom feel everything; but it is
hard for us to speak out our hearts. Our thoughts float
about in us. We are ashamed because, although we
understand, we are not able to express them ; and often
from shame we are angry at our thoughts, and at those
who inspire them. We drive them away from ourselves.
For life, you see, is so troublesome. From , all sides we
get blows and beatings; we want rest, and there come
the thoughts that rouse our souls and demand things
of us."

Nikolay listened, and nodded his head, rubbing his
eyeglasses briskly, while Sofya looked at her, her large
eyes wide open and the forgotten cigarette burning to
ashes. She sat half turned from the piano, supple and
shapely, at times touching the keys lightly with the
slender fingers of her right hand. The pensive chord
blended delicately with the speech of the mother, as
she quickly invested her new feelings and thoughts in
simple, hearty words.

" Now I am able to say something about myself,
about my people, because I understand life. I began to
understand it when I was able to make comparisons.
Before that time there was nobody to compare myself
with. In our state, you see, all lead the same life, and
now that I see how others live, I look back at my Jife,
and the recollection is hard and bitter. But it is impos-
sible to return, and even if you could, you wouldn't find
your youth again. And I think I understand a great
deal. Here, I am looking at you, and I recollect all
18 267

MOTHMR

your people whom I've seen." She lowered her voice
and continued: "Maybe I don't say things right, and
I needn't say them, because you know them yourself;
but I'm just speaking for myself. You at once set me
alongside of you. You don't need anything of me;
you can't make use of me; you can't get any enjoyment
out of me, I know it. And day after day my heart grows,
thank God! It grows in goodness, and I wish good for
everybody. This is my thanks that I'm saying to you."
Tears of happy gratitude affected her voice, and look-
ing at them with a smile in her eyes, she went on: "I
want to open my heart before you, so that you may see
how I wish your welfare."

" We see it," said Nikolay in a low voice. " You're
making a holiday for us."

" What do you think I imagined? " the mother asked
with a smile and lowering her voice. " I imagined I
found a treasure, and became rich, and I could endow
everybody. Maybe it's only my stupidity that's run away
with me."

" Don't speak like that," said Sofya seriously. " You
mustn't be ashamed."

The mother began to speak again, telling Sofya and
Nikolay of herself, her poor life, her wrongs, and patient
sufferings. Suddenly she stopped in her narrative. It
seemed to her that she was turning aside, away from
herself, and speaking about somebody else. In simple
words, without malice, with a sad smile on her lips, she
drew the monotonous, gray sketch of sorrowful days.
She enumerated the beatings she had received from
her husband ; and herself marveled at the trifling causes
that led to them and her own inability to avert them.

The brother and sister listened to her in attentive
silence, impressed by the deep significance of the un-

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MOTHMR

adorned story of a human being, who was regarded
as cattle are regarded, and who, without a murmur, for
a long time felt herself to be that which she was held
to be. It seemed to them as if thousands, nay millions,
of lives spoke through her mouth. Her existence had
been commonplace and simple; but such is the simple,
ordinary existence of multitudes, and her story, assum-
ing ever larger proportions in their eyes, took on the y
siernific^nce of a symhoL Nikolay, his elbows on the^
table, and his head leanmg on his hands, looked at her
through his glasses without moving, his eyes screwed
up intently. Sofya flung herself back on her chair.
Sometimes she trembled, and at times muttered to her-
self, shaking her head in disapproval. Her face grew
paler. Her eyes deepened.

" Once I thought myself unhappy. My life seemed
a fever," said Sofya, inclining her head. " That was
when I was in exile. It was in a small district town.
There was nothing to do, nothing to think about except
myself. I swept all my misfortunes together into one
heap, and weighed them, from lack of anything better
to do. Then I quarreled with my father, whom I loved.
I was expelled from the gymnasium, and insulted — ^the
prison, the treachery of a comrade near to me, the
arrest of my husband, again prison and exile, the death
of my husband. But all my misfortunes, and ten times
their number, are not worth a month of your life, Pela-
gueya Nilovna. Your torture continued daily through
years. From where do the people draw their power to
suffer?"

"They get used to it," responded the mother with
a sigh.

" I thought I knew that life," said Nikolay softly.
"But when I hear it spoken of — not when my books,

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MOTHMR

not when my incomplete impressions speak about it,
but she herself with a living tongue — it is horrible. And
the details are horrible, the inanities, the seconds of
which the years are made."

The conversation sped along, thoughtfully and quiet-
ly. It branched out and embraced the whole of com-
mon life on all sides. The mother became absorbed in
her recollections. From her dim past she drew to light
each daily wrong, and gave a massive picture of the
huge, dumb horror in which her youth had been sunk.
Finally she said:

" Oh ! How I've been chattering to you ! It's time
for you to rest. I'll n^ver be able to tell you all."

The brother and sister took leave of her in silence.
Nikolay seemed to the mother to bow lower to her than
ever before and to press her hand more firmly. Sofya
accompanied her to her room, and stopping at the door
said softly : " Now rest. I hope you have a good night."

Her voice blew a warm breath on the mother, and
her gray eyes embraced the mother's face in a caress.
She took Sofya's hand and pressing it in hers, answered:
" Thank you ! You are good people."

270

CHAPTER III

[HREE days passed in incessant conversa-
tions with Sofya and Nikolay. The mother
continued to recount tales of the past,
which stubbornly arose from the depths of
her awakened soul, and disturbed even her-
self. Her past demandgd,ari explanation. The attention
with which the brother and sister listened to her opened
her heart more and more widely, freeing her from the
narrow, dark cage of her former life.

On the fourth day, early in the morning, she and
Sofya appeared before Nikolay as burgher women,
poorly clad in worn chintz skirts and blouses, with birch-
bark sacks on their shoulders, and canes in their hands.
This costume reduced Sofya's height and gave a yet
sterner appearance to her pale face.

" You look as if you had walked about monasteries
all your life," observed Nikolay on taking leave of his
sister, and pressed her hand warmly. The mother again
remarked the simplicity and calmness of their relation
to each other. It was hard for her to get used to it.
No kissing, no affectionate words passed between them;
but they behaved so sincerely, so amicably and solici-
tously toward each other. In the life she had been ac-
customed to, people kissed a great deal and uttered
many sentimental words, but always bit at one another
like hungry dogs.

The women walked down the street in silence,
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MOTHER

reached the open country, and strode on side by side
along the wide beaten road between a double row of
birches.

"Won't you get tired?" the mother asked.

" Do you think I haven't done much walking? All
this is an old story to me."

With a merry smile, as if speaking of some glorious
childhood frolics, Sofya began to tell the mother of her
revolutionary work. She had had to live under a
changed name, use counterfeit documents, disguise her-
self in various costumes in order to hide from spies,
carry hundreds and hundreds of pounds of illegal books
through various cities, arrange escapes for comrades in
exile, and escort them abroad. She had had a printing
press fixed up in her quarters, and when on learning of
it the gendarmes appeared to make a search, she suc-
ceeded in a minute's time before their arrival in dressing
as a servant, and walking out of the house just as her
guests were entering at the gate. She met them there.
Without an outer wrap, a light kerchief on her head, a
tin kerosene can in her hand, she traversed the city
from one end to the other in the biting cold of a win-
ter's day. Another time she had just arrived in a strange
city to pay a visit to friends. When she was already
on the stairs leading to their quarters, she noticed that
a'feearch was being conducted in their apartments. To
turn back was too late. Without a second's hesitation
she boldly rang the bell at the door of a lower floor, and
walked in with her traveling bag to unknown people.
She frankly explained the position she was in.

" You can hand me over to the gendarmes if you
want to; but I don't think you will," she said confidently.

The people were greatly frightened, and did not
sleep the whole night. Every minute they expected the

272

sound of the gendarmes knocking at the door. Never-
theless, they could not make up their minds to deliver
her over to them, and the next morning they had a
hearty laugh with her over the gendarmes.

And once, dressed as a nun, she traveled in the
same railroad coach, in fact, sat on the very same seat,
with a spy, then in search of her. He boasted of his skill,
and told her how he was conducting his search. He
was certain she was riding on the same train as him-
self, in a second-class coach; but at every stop, after
walking out, he came back saying: " Not to be seen.
She must have gone to bed. They, too, get tired. Their
life is a hard one, just like ours."

The mother listening to her stories laughed, and re-
garded her affectionately. Tall and dry, Sofya strode
along the road lightly and firmly, at an even gait. In
her walk, her words, and the very sound of her voice —
although a bit dull, it was yet bold — in all her straight
and stolid figure, there was much of robust strength,
jovial daring, and thirst for space and freedom. Her
eyes looked at everything with a youthful glance. She
constantly spied something that gladdened her heart
with childlike joy.

" See what a splendid pine ! " she exclaimed, point-
ing out a tree to the mother.

The mother looked and stopped. It was a pine
neither higher nor thicker than others.

" Ye-es, ye-es, a good tree," she said, smiling.

" Do you hear ? A lark ! " Sofya raised her head, and
looked into the blue expanse of the sky for the merry
songster. Her gray eyes flashed with a fond glance,
and her body seemed to rise from the ground to meet
the music ringing from an unseen source in the far-
distant height. At times bending over, she plucked a

273

MOTHER

field flower, and with light touches of her slender, agile
fingers, she fondly stroked the quivering petals and
hummed quietly and prettily.

Over them burned the kindly spring sun. The blue
depths flashed softly. At the sides of the road stretched
a dark pine forest. The fields were verdant, birds sang,
and the thick, resinous atmosphere stroked the face
warmly and tenderly.

All this moved the mother's heart nearer to the
woman with the bright eyes and the bright soul; and,
trying to keep even pace with her, she involuntarily
pressed close to Sofya, as if desiring to draw into herself
her hearty boldness and freshness.

" How young you are ! " the mother sighed.

" I'm thirty-two years old already! "

Vlasova smiled. " I'm not talking about that. To
judge by your face, one would say you're older; but one
wonders that your eyes, your voice are so fresh, so
springlike, as if you were a young girl. Your life is so
hard and troubled, yet your heart is smiling."

" The heart is smiling," repeated Sofya thoughtfully.
" How well you speak — simple and good. A hard life,
you say ? But I don't feel that it is hard, and I cannot
imagine a better, a more interesting life than this."

" What pleases me more than anything else is to see
how you all know the roads to a human being's heart.
Everything in a person opens itself out to you without
fear or caution — just so, all of itself, the heart throws
itself open to meet you. I'm thinking of all of you. You
overcome the evil in the world — overcome it absolutely."

" We shall be victorious, because we are with the
working people," said Sofya with assurance. "Our
power to work, our faith in the victory of truth we ob-
tain from you, from the people; and the people is the

274

MOTHMR

inexhaustible source of spiritual and physical strength.
In the people are vested all possibilities, and with them
everything is attainable. It's necessary only to arouse
their consciousness, their soul, the great soul of a child,
who is not given the liberty to grow." She spoke softly
and simply, and looked pensively before her down the
winding depths of the road, where a bright haze was
quivering.

Sofya's words awakened a complex feeling in the
mother's heart. For some reason she felt sorry for her.
Her pity, however, was not offensive; not bred of
familiarity. She marveled that here was a lady walking
on foot and carrying a dangerous burden on her back.

" Who's going to reward you for your labors ? "

Sofya answered the mother's thought with pride:

" We are already rewarded for everything. We have
found a life that satisfies us; we live broadly and fully,
with all the power of our souls. What else can we
desire? "

Filling their lungs with the aromatic air, they paced
along, not swiftly, but at a good, round gait. The
mother felt she was on a pilgrimage. She recollected
her childhood, the fine joy with which she used to leave
the village on holidays to go to a distant monastery,
where there was a wonder-working icon.

Sometimes Sofya would hum some new unfamiliar
songs about the sky and about love, or suddenly she
would begin to recite poems about the fields and forests
and the Volga. The mother listened, a smile on her
face, swinging her head to the measure of the tune or
rhythm, involuntarily yielding to the music. Her breast
was pervaded by a soft, melancholy warmth, like the
atmosphere in a little old garden on a summer night.

On the third day they arrived at the village, and the
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MOTHER

mother inquired of a peasant at work in the field where
the tar works were. Soon they were descending a steep
woody path, on which the exposed roots of the trees
formed steps through a small, round glade, which was
choked up with coal and chips of wood caked with tar.

Outside a shack built of poles and branches, at a
table formed simply of three unplaned boards laid on a
trestle stuck firmly into the ground, sat Rybin, all black-
ened, his shirt open at his breast, Yefim, and two other
young men. They were just dining. Rybin was the
first to notice the women. Shading his eyes with his
hand, he waited in silence.

" How do you do, brother Mikhail? " shouted the
mother from afar.

He arose and leisurely walked to meet them. When
he recognized the mother, he stopped and smiled and
stroked his beard with his black hand.

"We are on a pilgrimage," said the mother, ap-
proaching him. " And so I thought I would stop in
and see my brother. This is my friend Anna."

Proud of her resourcefulness she looked askance at
Sofya's serious, stern face.

"How are you?" said Rybin, smiling grimly. He
shook her hand, bowed to Sofya, and continued: " Don't
lie. This isn't the city. No need of lies. These are all
our own people, good people."

Yefim, sitting at the table, looked sharply at the pil-
grims, and whispered something to his comrades. When
the women walked up to the table, he arose and silently
bowed to them. His comrades didn't stir, seeming to
take no notice of the guests.

" We live here like monks," said Rybin, tapping the
mother lightly on the shoulder. " No one comes to
us; our master is not in the village; the mistress was

276

MOTHMR

taken to the hospital. And now I'm a sort of superin-
tendent. Sit down at the table. Maybe you're hungry.
Yefim, bring some milk."

Without hurrying, Yefim walked into the shack. The
travelers removed the sacks from their shoulders, and
one of the men, a tall, lank fellow, rose from the table
to help them. Another one, resting his elbows thought-
fully on the table, looked at them, scratching his head
and quietly humming a song.

The pungent odor of the fresh tar blended with the
stifling smell of decaying leaves dizzied the newcomers.

" This fellow is Yakob," said Rybin, pointing to the
tall man, " and that one Ignaty. Well, how's your son? "

" He's in prison," the mother sighed.

" In prison again? He likes it, I suppose."

Ignaty stopped humming; Yakob took the staff from
the mother's hand, and said:

" Sit down, little mother."

" Yes, why don't you sit down? " Rybin extended the
invitation to Sofya.

She sat down on the stump of a tree, scrutinizing
Rybin seriously and attentively.

" When did they take him ? " asked Rybin, sitting
down opposite the mother, and shaking his head.
" You've bad luck, Nilovna."

"Oh, well!"

" You're getting used to it ? "

" I'm not used to it, but I see it's not to be helped."

" That's right. Well, tell us the story."

Yefim brought a pitcher of milk, took a cup from
the table, rinsed it with water, and after fiUing it shoved
it across the table to Sofya. He moved about noiselessly,
listening to the mother's narrative. When the mother
had concluded her short account, all were silent for a

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MOTHER

moment, looking at one another. Ignaty, sitting at the
table, drew a pattern with his nails on the boards. Yeiim
stood behind Rybin, resting his elbows on his shoulders.
Yakob leaned against the trunk of a tree, his hands
folded over his chest, his head inclined. Sofya observed
the peasants from the corner of her eye.

" Yes," Rybin drawled sullenly. " That's the course
of action they've decided on — ^to go out openly."

" If we were to arrange such a parade here," said
Yefim, with a surly smile, " they'd hack the peasants to
death."

" They certainly would," Ignaty assented, nodding
his head. " No, I'll go to the factory. It's better there."
" You say Pavel's going to be tried ? " asked Rybin.
" Yes. They've decided on a trial."
" Well, what'll he get? Have you heard? "
" Hard labor, or exile to Siberia for life," answered
th6 mother softly. The three young men simultaneously
turned their look on her, and Rybin, lowering his head,
asked slowly:

" And when he got this affair up, did he know what
was in store for him ? "

" I don't know. I suppose he did."
" He did," said Sofya aloud.
All were silent, motionless, as if congealed by one
cold thought.

" So," continued Rybin slowly and gravely. " I, too,
think he knew. A serious man looks before he leaps.
There, boys, you see, the man knew that he might be
struck with a bayonet, or exiled to hard labor; but he
went. He felt it was necessary for him to go, and he
went. If his mother had lain across his path, he would
have stepped over her body and gone his way. Wouldn't
he have stepped over you, Nilovna?"

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MOTHER

" He would," said the mother shuddering and look-
ing around. She heaved a heavy sigh. Sofya silently
stroked her hand.

" There's a man for you ! " said Rybin in a subdued
voice, his dark eyes roving about the company. They all
became silent again. The thin rays of the sun trembled
like golden ribbons in the thick, odorous atmosphere.
Somewhere a crow cawed with bold assurance. The
mother looked around, troubled by her recollections of
the first of May, and grieving for her son and Audrey.

Broken barrels lay about in confusion in the small,
crowded glade. Uprooted stumps stretched out their
dead, scraggy roots, and chips of wood littered the
ground. Dense oaks and birches encircled the clearing,
and drooped over it slightly on all sides as if desiring
to sweep away and destroy this offensive rubbish and
dirt.

Suddenly Yakob moved forward from- the tree,
stepped to one side, stopped, and shaking his head ob-
served dryly:

" So, when we're in the army with Yefim, it's on
such men as Pavel Mikhaylovich that they'll set us."

" Against whom did you think they'd make you go ? "
retorted Rybin glumly. " They choke us with our own
hands. That's where the jugglery comes in."

" I'll join the army all the same," announced Yefim
obstinately.

"Who's trying to dissuade you?" exclaimed Ignaty.
" Go! " He looked Yefim straight in the face, and said
with a smile : " If you're going to shoot at me, aim at
the head. Don't just wound me ; kill me at once."

" I hear what you're saying," Yefim replied sharply.

"Listen, boys," said Rybin, letting his glance stray
about the little assembly with a deliberate, grave gesture

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MOTHMR

of his raised hand. " Here's a woman," pointing to the
mother, " whose son is surely done for nowi"

" Why are you saying this ? " the mother asked in a
low, sorrowful voice.

" It's necessary," he answered sullenly. " It's neces-
sary that your hair shouldn't turn gray in vain, that
your heart shouldn't ache for nothing. Behold, boys!
She's lost her son, but what of it? Has it killed her?
Nilovna, did you bring books?"

The mother looked at him, and after a pause said:

" I did."

" That's it," said Rybin, striking the table with the
palm of his hand. " I knew it at once when I saw you.
Why need you have come here, if not for that?" He
again measured the young men with his eyes, and con-
tinued, solemnly knitting his eyebrows: "Do you see?
They thrust the son out of the ranks, and the mother
drops into his place."

He suddenly struck the table with both hands, and
straightening himself said with an air that seemed to
augur ill:

" Those " — ^here he flung out a terrible oath—

" those people don't know what their blind hands are
sowing. They will know when our power is complete
and we begin to mow down their cursed grass. They'll
know it then ! "

The mother was frightened. She looked at him, and
saw that Mikhail's face had changed greatly. He had
grown thinner ; his beard was roughened, and his cheek
bones seemed to have sharpened. The bluish whites of
his eyes were threaded with thin red fibers, as if he had
gone without sleep for a long time. His nose, less fleshy
than formerly, had acquired a rapacious crook. His
open, tar-saturated collar, attached to a shirt that had

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MOTHER

once been red, exposed his dry collar bones and the thick
black hair on his breast. About his whole figure there
was something more tragic than before. Red sparks
seemed to fly from his inflamed eyes and light the lean,
dark face with the fire of unconquerable, melancholy
rage. Sofya paled and was silent, her gaze riveted on
the peasant. Ignaty shook his head and screwed up his
eyes, and Yakob, standing at the wall again, angrily tore
splinters from the boards with his blackened fingers.
Yefim, behind the mother, slowly paced up and down
along the length of the table.

" The other day," continued Rybin, " a government
official called me up, and, says he, ' You blackguard,
what did you say to the priest ? ' ' Why am I a black-
guard ? ' I say. ' I earn my bread in the sweat of my
brow, and I don't do anything bad to people.' That's
what I said. He bawled out at me, and hit me in the
face. For three days and three nights I sat in the lock-
up." Rybin grew infuriated. " That's the way you
speak to the people, is it? " he cried. " Don't expect par-
don, you devils. My wrong will be avenged, if not by me,
then by another, if not on you, then on your children.
Remember ! The greed in your breasts has harrowed the
people with iron claws. You have sowed malice; don't
expect mercy ! "

The wrath in Rybin seethed and bubbled; his voice
shook with sounds that frightened the mother.

"And what had I said to the priest?" he continued
in a lighter tone. "After the village assembly he sits
with the peasants in the street, and tells them something.
' The people are a flock,' says he, ' and they always need
a shepherd.' And I joke. ' If,' I say, ' they make the
fox the chief in the forest, there'll be lots of feathers
but no birds.' He looks at me sidewise and speaks about

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MOTHMR

how the people ought to be patient and pray more to God
to give them the power to be patient. And I say that
the people pray, but evidently God has no time, because
he doesn't listen to them. The priest begins to cavil
with me as to what prayers I pray. I tell him I use one
prayer, like all the people, ' O Lord, teach the masters
to carry bricks, eat stones, and spit wood.' He wouldn't
even let me finish my sentence. — ^Are you a lady?"
Rybin asked Sofya, suddenly breaking off his story.

" Why do you think I'm a lady ? " she asked quickly,
startled by the unexpectedness of his question.

"Why?" laughed Rybin. "That's the star under
which you were born. That's why. You think a chintz
kerchief can conceal the blot of the nobleman from the
eyes of the people? We'll recognize a priest even if
he's wrapped in sackcloth. Here, for instance, you put
your elbows on a wet table, and you' started and frowned.
Besides, your back is too straight for a working woman."

Fearing he would insult Sofya with his heavy voice
and his raillery, the mother said quickly and sternly:

" She's my friend, Mikhail Ivanovich. She's a good
woman. Working in this movement has turned her hair
gray. You're not very "

Rybin fetched a deep breath.

" Why, was what I said insulting? "

" Sofya looked at him dryly and queried :

"You wanted to say something to me?"

" I ? Not long ago a new man came here, a cousin
of Yakob. He's sick with consumption ; but he's learned
a thing or two. Shall we call him ? "

" Call him ! Why not ? " answered Sofya.

Rybin looked at her, screwing up his eyes.

" Yefim," he said in a lowered voice, " you go over
to him, and tell him to come here in the evening."

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Yefim went into the shack to get his cap ; then silently,
without looking at anybody, he walked off at a leisurely
pace and disappeared in the woods. Rybin nodded his
head in the direction he was going, saying dully:

" He's suffering torments. He's stubborn. He has
to go into the army, he and Yakob, here. Yakob simply
says, ' I can't.' And that fellow can't either ; but he
wants to; he has an object in view. He thinks he can
stir the soldiers. My opinion is, you can't break through
a wall with your forehead. Bayonets in their hands, off
they go — ^where ? They don't see — they're going against
themselves. Yes, he's suffering. And Ignaty worries
him uselessly."

" No, not at all ! " said Ignaty. He knit his eyebrows,
and kept his eyes turned away from Rybin. " They'll
change him, and he'll become just like all the other sol-
diers."

" No, hardly," Rybin answered meditatively. " But,
of course, it's better to run away from the army. Russia
is large. Where will you find the fellow ? He gets him-
self a passport, and goes from village to village."

" That's what I'm going to do, too," remarked Yakob,
tapping his foot with a chip of wood. " Once you've
made up your mind to go against the government, go
straight."

The conversation dropped off. The bees and wasps
circled busily around humming in the stifling atmosphere.
The birds chirped, and somewhere at a distance a song
was heard straying through the fields. After a pause
Rybin said:

" Well, we've got to get to work. Do you want to
rest? There are boards inside the shanty. Pick up some
dry leaves for them, Yakob. And you, mother, give us
the books. Where are they? "
19 283

MOTHMR

The mother and Sofya began to untie their sacks.
Rybin bent down over them, and said with satisfaction:

"That's it! Well, well — not a few, I see. Have
you been in this business a long time? What's your
name ? " he turned toward Sofya.

"Anna Ivanovna. Twelve years. Why?"

" Nothing."

" Have you been in prison ? "

"I have."

He was silent, taking a pile of books in his hand, and
said to her, showing his teeth :

" Don't take offense at the way I speak. A peasant
and a nobleman are like tar and water. It's hard for
them to mix. They jump away from each other."

" I'm not a lady. I'm a human being," Sofya re-
torted with a quiet laugh.

" That may be. It's hard for me to believe it ; but
they say it happens. They say that a dog was once a
wolf. Now I'll hide these books."

Ignaty and Yakob walked up to him, and both
stretched out their hands.

" Give us some."

"Are they all the same?" Rybin asked of Sofya.

" No, they're different. There's a newspaper here,
too."

"Oh!"

The three men quickly walked into the shack.

" The peasant is on fire," said the mother in a low
voice, looking after Rybin thoughtfully.

" Yes," answered Sofya. " I've never seen such a
face as his — such a martyrlike face. Let's go inside,
too. I want to look at them."

When the women reached the door they found the
men already engrossed in the newspapers. Ignaty was

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MOTHER

sitting on the board, the newspaper sprea^. on his knees,
and his fingers run through his hair. He raised his head,
gave the women a rapid glance, and bent over his paper
again. Rybin was standing to let the ray of sun that
penetrated a chink in the roof fall on his paper. He
moved his lips as he read. Ignaty read kneeling, with
his breast against the edge of the board.

Sofya felt the eagerness of the men for the word of
truth. Her face brightened with a joyful smile. Walk-
ing carefully over to a corner, she sat down next to the
mother, her arm on the mother's shoulder, and gazed
about silently.

" Uncle Mikhail, they're rough on us peasants," mut-
tered Yakob without turning.

Rybin looked around at him, and answered with a
smile :

" For love of us. He who loves does not insult, no
matter what he says."

Ignaty drew a deep breath, raised his head, smiled
satirically, and closing his eyes said with a scowl :

" Here it says : ' The peasant has ceased to be a hu-
man being.' Of course he has." Over his simple, open
face glided a shadow of offense. " Well, try to wear
my skin for a day or so, and turn around in it, and then
we'll see what you'll be like, you wiseacre, you ! "

" I'm going to lie down," said the mother quietly.
" I got tired, after all. My head is going around. And
you ? " she asked Sofya.

" I don't want to."

The mother stretched herself on the board and soon
fell asleep. Sofya sat over her looking at the people
reading. When the bees buzzed about the mother's face,
she solicitously drove them away.

Rybin came up and asked:
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MOTHMR

" Is she asleep ? "

" Yes."

He was silent for a moment, looked fixedly at the
calm sleeping face, and said softly :

" She is probably the first mother who has followed
in the footsteps of her son — the first."

" Let's not disturb her ; let's go away," suggested
Sofya.

" Well, we have to work. I'd like to have a chat with
you ; but we'll put it off until evening. Come, boys."

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CHAPTER IV

^HE three men walked away, leaving Sofya
in the cabin. Then from a distance came
the sound of the ax blows, the echo stray-
ing through the foliage. In a half-dreamy
condition of repose, intoxicated with the
spicy odor of the forest, Sofya sat just outside the door,
humming a song, and watching the approach of evening,
which gradually enfolded the forest. Her gray eyes
smiled softly at some one. The reddening rays of the suii
fell more and more aslant. The busy chirping of the birds
died away. The forest darkened, and seemed to grow
denser. The trees moved in more closely about the
choked-up glade, and gave it a more friendly embrace,
covering it with shadows. Cows were lowing in the dis-
tance. The tar men came, all four together, content that
the work was ended.

Awakened by their voices the mother walked out from
the cabin, yawning and smiling. Rybin was calmer and
less gloomy. The surplus of his excitement was drowned
in exhaustion.

" Ignaty," he said, " let's have our tea. We do house-
keeping here by turns. To-day Ignaty provides us with
food and drink."

"To-day I'd be glad to yield my turn," remarked
Ignaty, gathering up pieces of wood and branches for
an open-air fire.

" We're all interested in our guests," said Yefim, sit-
ting down by Sofya's side.

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MOTHER

" I'll help you," said Yakob softly.

He brought out a big loaf of bread baked in hot ashes,
and began to cut it and place the pieces on the table.

" Listen ! " exclaimed Yefim. " Do you hear that
cough ? "

Rybin listened, and nodded.

" Yes, he's coming," he said to Sofya. " The witness
is coming. I would lead him through cities, put him in
public squares, for the people to hear him. He always
says the same thing. But everybody ought to hear it."

The shadows grew closer, the twilight thickened, and
the voices sounded softer. Sofya and the mother
watched the actions of the peasants. They all moved
slowly and heavily with a strange sort of cautiousness.
They, too, constantly followed the women with their
eyes, listening attentively to their conversation.

A tall, stooping man came out of the woods into the
glade, and walked slowly, firmly supporting himself on
a cane. His heavy, raucous breathing was audible.

" There is Savely ! " exclaimed Yakob.

" Here I am," said the man hoarsely. He stopped,
and began to cough.

A shabby coat hung over him down to his very heels.
From under his round, crumpled hat straggled thin, limp
tufts of dry, straight, yellowish hair. His light, sparse
beard grew unevenly upon his yellow, bony face; his
mouth stood half -open ; his eyes were sunk deep beneath
his forehead, and glittered feverishly in their dark
hollows.

When Rybin introduced him to Sofya he said to her :

" I heard you brought books for the people."

" I did."

" Thank you in the name of the people. They them-
selves cannot yet understand the book of truth. They

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MOTHER

cannot yet thank ; so I, who have learned to understand it,
render you thanks in their behalf." He breathed quickly,
with short, eager breaths, strangely drawing in the air
through his dry lips. His voice broke. The bony fingers
of his feeble hands crept along his breast trying to button
his coat.

" It's bad for you to be in the woods so late ; it's damp
and close here," remarked Sofya.

" Nothing is good for me any more," he answered,
out of breath. " Only death ! "

It was painful to listen to him. His entire figure in-
spired a futile pity that recognized its own powerlessness,
and gave way to a sullen feeling of discomfort.

The wood pile blazed up; everything round about
trembled and shook; the scorched shadows flung them-
selves into the woods in fright. The round face of
Ignaty with its inflated cheeks shone over the fire. The
flames died down, and the air began to smell of smoke.
Again the trees seemed to draw close and unite with the
mist on the glade, listening in strained attention to the
hoarse words of the sick man.

" But as a witness of the crime, I can still bring good
to the people. Look at me ! I'm twenty-eight years old ;
but I'm dying. About ten years ago I could lift five
hundred pounds on my shoulders without an effort.
With such strength I thought I could go on for seventy
years without dropping into the grave, and I've lived for
only ten years, and can't go on any more. The master§*i
have robbed me ; they've torn forty years of my life f ronj/
me; they've stolen forty years from me."

" There, that's his song," said Rybin dully.

The fire blazed up again, but now it was stronger and
more vivid. Again the shadows leaped into the woods,
and again darted back to the fire, quivering about it in

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MOTHER

a mute, astonished dance. The wood crackled, and the
leaves of the trees rustled softly. Alarmed by the waves
of the heated atmosphere, the merry, vivacious tongues
of fire, yellow and red, in sportive embrace, soared aloft,
sowing sparks. The burning leaves flew, and the stars
in the sky smiled to the sparks, luring them up to them-
selves:

" That's not my song. Thousands of people sing
it. But they sing it to themselves, not realizing what a
salutary lesson their unfortunate lives hold for all. How
many men, tormented to death by work, miserable crip-
ples, maimed, die silently from hunger! It is necessary
to shout it aloud, brothers, it is necessary to shout it
aloud ! " He fell into a fit of coughing, bending and all
a-shiver.

" Why ? " asked Yefim. " My misery is my own af-
fair. Just look at my joy."

" Don't interrupt," Rybin admonished.

" You yourself said a man mustn't boast of his mis-
fortune," observed Yefim with a frown.

" That's a different thing. Savely's misfortune is
a general affair, not merely his own. It's very different,"
said Rybin solemnly. " Here you have a man who has
gone down to the depths and been suffocated. Now he
shouts to the world, ' Look out, don't go there ! ' "

Yakob put a pail of cider on the table, dropped a bun-
dle of green branches, and said to the sick man :

" Come, Savely, I've brought you some milk."

Savely shook his head in declination, but Yakob took
him under the arm, lifted him, and made him walk to the
table.

"Listen," said Sofya softly to Rybin. She was
troubled and reproached him. " Why did you invite
him here? He may die any minute."

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" He may," retorted Rybin. " Let him die among
people. That's easier than to die alone. In the mean-
time let him speak. He lost his life for trifles. Let him
suffer a little longer for the sake of the people. It's all
right!"

" You seem to take particular delight in it," ex-
claimed Sofya.

" It's the masters who take pleasure in Christ as he
groans on the cross. But what we want is to learn from
a man, and make you learn something, too."

At the table the sick man began to speak again :

"They destroy lives with work. What for? They
rob men of their lives. What for, I ask? My master —
I lost my life in the textile mill of Nefidov — my master
presented one prima donna with a golden wash basin.
Every one of her toilet articles was gold. That basin
holds my life-blood, my very life. That's for what my
life went ! A man killed me with work in order to com-
fort his mistress with my blood. He bought her a gold
wash basin with my blood."

" Man is created in the image of God," said Yefim,
smiling. "And that's the use to which they put the
image. Fine ! "

" Well, then don't be silent ! " exclaimed Rybin, strik-
ing his palm on the table.

" Don't suffer it," added Yakob softly.

Ignaty laughed. The mother observed that all three
men spoke little, but listened with the insatiable attention
of hungry souls, and every time that Rybin spoke they
looked into his face with watchful eyes. Savely's talk
produced a strange, sharp smile on their faces. No
feeling of pity for the sick man was to be detected in
their manner.

Bending toward Sofya the mother whispered:
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MOTHMR

" Is it possible that what he says is true? "

Sofya answered aloud:

"Yes, it's true. The newspapers tell about such
gifts. It happened in Moscow."

"And the man wasn't executed for it?" asked
Rybin dully. " But he should have been executed, he
should have been led out before the people and torn to
pieces. His vile, dirty flesh should have been thrown
to the dogs. The people will perform great execu-
tions when once they arise. They'll shed much blood
to wash away their wrongs. This blood is theirs;
it has been drained from their veins; they are its
masters."

" It's cold," said the sick man. Yakob helped him to
rise, and led him to the fire.

The wood pile burned evenly and glaringly, and the
faceless shadows quivered around it. Savely sat down on
a stump, and stretched his dry, transparent hands toward
the fire, coughing. Rybin nodded his head to one side,
and said to Sofya in an undertone:

" That's sharper than books. That ought to be
known. When they tear a workingman's hand in a ma-
chine or kill him, you can understand — ^the workingman
himself is at fault. But in a case like this, when they
suck a man's blood out of him and throw him away like
a carcass — ^that can't be explained in any way. I can
comprehend every murder; but torturing for mere sport
I can't comprehend. And why do they torture the peo-
ple? To what purpose do they torture us all? For fun,
for mere amusement, so that they can live pleasantly on
the earth ; so that they can buy everything with the blood
of the people, a prima donna, horses, silver knives, golden
dishes, expensive toys for their children. You work,
work, work, work more and more, and I'll hoard

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MOTHMR

money by your labor and give my mistress a golden
wash basin."

The mother listened, looked, and once again, before
her in the darkness, stretched the bright streak of the
road that Pavel was going, and all those with whom he
walked.

When they had concluded their supper, they sat
around the fire, which consumed the wood quickly. Be-
hind them hung the darkness, embracing forest and sky.
The sick man with wide-open eyes looked into the fire,
coughed incessantly, and shivered all over. The rem-
nants of his life seemed to be tearing themselves from
his bosom impatiently, hastening to forsake the dry body,
drained by sickness.

" Maybe you'd better go into the shanty, Savely ? "
Yakob asked, bending over him.

" Why ? " he answered with an effort. " I'll sit here.
I haven't much time left to stay with people, very little
time." He paused, let his eyes rove about the entire
group, then with a pale smile, continued : " I feel good
when I'm with you. I look at you, and think, ' Maybe
you will avenge the wrongs of all who were robbed, of
all the people destroyed because of greed.' "

No one replied, and he soon fell into a doze, his head
limply hanging over his chest. Rybin looked at him,
and said in a dull voice :

" He comes to us, sits here, and always speaks of the
same thing, of this mockery of man. This is his entire
soul ; he feels nothing else."

"What more do you want?" said the mother
thoughtfully. " If people are killed by the thousands
day after day working so that their masters may throw
money away for sport, what else do you want? "

" It's endlessly wearying to listen to him," said Ig-
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MOTHMR

naty in a low voice. " When you hear this sort of thing
once, you never forget it, and he keeps harping on it all
the time."

" But everything is crowded into this one thing. It's
his entire life, remember," remarked Rybin sullenly.

The sick man turned, opened his eyes, and lay down
on the ground. Yakob rose noiselessly, walked into the
cabin, brought out two short overcoats, and wrapped
them about his cousin. Then he sat down beside Sofya.

The merry, ruddy face of the fire smiled irritatingly
as it illumined the dark figures about it ; and the voices
blended mournfully with the soft rustle and crackle of
the flames.

Sofya began to tell about the universal struggle of
the people for the right to life, about the conflicts of the
German peasants in the olden times, about the misfor-
tunes of the Irish, about the great exploits of the work-
ingmen of France in their frequent battling for freedom.

In the forest clothed in the velvet of night, in the little
glade bounded by the dumb trees, before the sportive
face of the fire, the events that shook the world rose to
life again ; one nation of the earth after the other passed
in review, drained of its blood, exhausted by combats;
the names of the great soldiers for freedom and truth
were recalled.

The somewhat dull voice of the woman seemed to
echo softly from the remoteness of the past. It aroused
hope, it carried conviction ; and the company listened in
silence to its music, to the great story of their brethren
in spirit. They looked into her face, lean and pale, and
smiled in response to the smile of her gray eyes. Before
them the cause of all the people of the world, the end-
less war for freedom and equality, became more vivid
and assumed a greater holiness. They saw their desires

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MOTHER

and thoughts in the distance, overhung with the dark,
bloody curtain of the past, amid strangers unknown to
them; and inwardly, both in mind and heart, they be-
came united with the world, seeing in it friends even in
olden times, friends who had unanimously resolved to
obtain right upon the earth, and had consecrated their
resolve with measureless suffering, and shed rivers of
their own blood. With this blood, mankind dedicated
itself to a new life, bright and cheerful. A feeling arose
and grew of the spiritual nearness of each unto each.
A new heart was born on the earth, full of hot striving to
embrace all and to unite all in itself.

" A day is coming when the workingmen of all coun-
tries will raise their heads, and fiirmly declare, ' Enough !
We want no more of this life.' " Sofya's low but power-
ful voice rang with assurance. " And then the fantastic
power of those who are mighty by their greed will crum-
ble ; the earth will vanish from under their feet, and their
support will be gone."

" That's how it will be," said Rybin, bending his head.
"Don't pity yourselves, and you will conquer every-
thing."

The men listened in silence, motionless, endeavoring
in no way to break the even flow of the narrative, fearing
to cut the bright thread that bound them to the world.
Only occasionally some one would carefully put a piece
of wood in the fire, and when a stream of sparks and
smoke rose from the pile he would drive them away from
the woman with a wave of his hand.

Once Yakob rose and said :

"Wait a moment, please." He ran into the shack
and brought out wraps. With Ignaty's help he folded
them about the shoulders and feet of the women.

And again Sofya spoke, picturing the day of victory,
29s

MOTHER

inspiring people with faith in their power, arousing in
them a consciousness of their oneness with all who give
away their lives to barren toil for the amusement of the
satiated.

At break of dawn, exhausted, she grew silent, and
smiling she looked around at the thoughtful, illumined
faces.

" It's time for us to go," said the mother.

" Yes, it's time," said Sofya wearily.

Some one breathed a noisy sigh.

" I am sorry you're going," said Rybin in an unusu-
ally mild tone. " You speak well. This great cause will
unite people. When you know that millions want the
same as you do, your heart becomes better, and in good-
ness there is great power."

"You offer goodness, and get the stake in return,"
said Yefim with a low laugh, and quickly jumped to his
feet. " But they ought to go. Uncle Mikhail, before any-
body sees them. We'll distribute the books among the
people ; the authorities will begin to wonder where they
came from ; then some one will remember having seen the
pilgrims here."

" Well, thank you, mother, for your trouble," said
Rybin, interrupting Yefim. " I always think of Pavel
when I look at you, and you've gone the right way."

He stood before the mother, softened, with a broad,
good-natured smile on his face. The atmosphere was
raw, but he wore only one shirt, his collar was unbut-
toned, and his breast was bared low. The mother looked
at his large figure, and smiling also, advised :

" You'd better put on something ; it's cold."

" There's a fire inside of me."

The three young men standing at the burning pile
conversed in a low voice. At their feet the sick man lay

296

"The men listened in silence."

MOTHER

as if dead, covered with the short fur coats. The sky
paled, the shadows dissolved, the leaves shivered softly,
awaiting the sun.

"Well, then, we must say good-by," said Rybin,
pressing Sofya's hand. " How are you to be found in
the city?"

" You must look for me," said the mother.

The young men in a close group walked up to Sofya,
and silently pressed her hand with awkward kindness.
In each of them was evident grateful and friendly satis-
faction, though they attempted to conceal the feeling
which apparently embarrassed them by its novelty.
Smiling with eyes dry with the sleepless night, they
looked in silence into Sofya's eyes, shifting from one foot
to the other.

" Won't you drink some milk before you go ? " asked
Yakob.

"Is there any?" queried Yefim.

" There's a little."

Ignaty, stroking his hair in confusion, announced:

" No, there isn't ; I spilled it."

All three laughed. They spoke about milk, but the
mother and Sofya felt that they were thinking of some-
thing else, and without words were wishing them well.
This touched Sofya, and produced in her, too, embar-
rassment and modest reserve, which prevented her from
saying anything more than a quiet and warm " Thank
you, comrades."

They exchanged glances, asjf_th£_smrd..ll£omrade "
had given them a mild shock. The dull coughoF
sick man was heard. The embers of the burning wood-
pile died out.

" Good-by," the peasants said in subdued tones ; and
the sad word rang in the women's ears a long time.

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MOTHMR

They walked without haste, in the twilight of the
dawn, along the wood path. The mother striding be-
hind Sofya said :

" All this is good, just as in a dream — so good ! Peo-
ple want to know the truth, my dear ; yes, they want to
know the truth. It's like being in a church on the morn-
ing of a great holiday, when the priest has not yet ar-
rived, and it's dark and quiet; then it's raw, and the
people are already gathering. Here the candles are
lighted before the images, and there the lamps are lighted ;
and little by little, they drive away the darkness, illumin-
ing the House of God."

" True," answered Sofya. " Only here the House of
God is the whole earth."

" The whole earth," the mother repeated, shaking her
head thoughtfully. " It's so good that it's hard to be-
lieve."

They walked and talked about Rybin, about the sick
man, about the young peasants who were so attentively
silent, and who so awkwardly but eloquently expressed
a feeling of grateful friendship by little attentions to the
women. They came out into the open field ; the sun rose
to meet them. As yet invisible, he spread, out over the
sky a transparent fan of rosy rays, and the dewdrops in
the grass glittered with the many-colored gems of brave
spring joy. The birds awoke fresh from their slumber,
vivifying the morning with their merry, impetuous voices.
The crows flew about croaking, and flapping their wings
heavily. The black rooks jumped about in the winter
wheat, conversing in abrupt accents. Somewhere the
orioles whistled mournfully, a note of alarm in their song.
The larks sang, soaring up to meet the sun. The dis-
tance opened up, the nocturnal shadows lifting from the
hills.

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MOTHER

" Sometimes a man will speak and speak to you, and
you won't understand him until he succeeds in telling you
some simple word; and this one word will suddenly
lighten up everything," the mother said thoughtfully.
"There's that sick man, for instance; I've heard and
known myself how the workingmen in the factories and
everywhere are squeezed; but you get used to it from
childhood on, and it doesn't touch your heart much.
But he suddenly tells you such an outrageous, vile thing !

0 Lord! Can it be that people give their whole lives
away to work in order that the masters may permit them-
selves pleasure ? That's without justification."

The thoughts of the mother were arrested by this
fact. Its dull, impudent gleam threw light upon a
series of similar facts, at one time known to her, but
now forgotten.

" It's evident that they are satiated with everything.

1 know one country officer who compelled the peasants
to salute his horse when it was led through the village ;
and he arrested everyone who failed to salute it. Now,
what need had he of that? It's impossible to under-
stand." After a pause she sighed : " The poor people
are stupid from poverty, and the rich from greed."

Sofya beg:an to hum a song bold as the morning.

299

CHAPTER V

'HE life of Nilovna flowed on with strange
placidity. This calmness sometimes aston-
ished her. There was her son immured in
prison. She knew that a severe sentence
awaited him, yet every time the idea of it
came to her mind her thoughts strayed to Andrey, Fedya,
and an endless series of other people she had never seen,
but only heard of. The figure of her son appeared to her
absorbing all the people into his own destiny. The con-
templative feeling aroused in her involuntarily and un-
noticeably diverted her inward gaze away from him to all
sides. Like thin, uneven rays it touched upon everything,
tried to throw light everywhere, and make one picture of
the whole. Her mind was hindered from dwelling upon
some one thing.

Sofya soon went off somewhere, and reappeared in
about five days, merry and vivacious. Then, in a few
hours, she vanished again, and returned within a couple
of weeks. It seemed as if she were borne along in life
in wide circles.

Nikolay, always occupied, lived a monotonous,
methodical existence. At eight o'clock in the morning
he drank tea, read the newspapers, and recounted the
news to the mother. He repeated the speeches of the
merchants in the Douma without malice, and clearly de-
picted the life in the city.

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MOTHER

Listening to him the mother saw with transparent
clearness the mechanism of this life pitilessly grinding
the people in the millstones of money. At nine o'clock
he went off to the office.

She tidied the rooms, prepared dinner, washed herself,
put on a clean dress, and then sat in her room to examine
the pictures and the books. She had already learned to
read, but the effort of reading quickly exhausted her ; and
she ceased to understand the meaning of the words. But
the pictures were a constant astonishment to her. They
opened up before her a clear, almost tangible world of
new and marvelous things. Huge cities arose before her,
beautiful structures, machines, ships, monuments, and
infinite wealth, created by the people, overwhelming the
mind by the variety of nature's products. Life widened
endlessly; each day brought some new, huge wonders.
The awakened hungry soul of the woman was more and
more strongly aroused to the multitude of riches in the
world, its countless beauties. She especially loved to
look through the great folios of the zoological atlas, and
although the text was written in a foreign language, it
gave her the clearest conception of the beauty, wealth,
and vastness of the earth.

" It's an immense world," she said to Nikolay at
dinner.

" Yes, and yet the people are crowded for space."

The insects, particularly the butterflies, astonished her
most.

" What beauty, Nikolay Ivanovich," she observed.
"And how much of this fascinating beauty there is every-
where, but all covered up from us ; it all flies by without
our seeing it. People toss about, they know nothing, they
are unable to take delight in anything, they have no in-
clination for it. How many could take happiness to

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MOTHBR

themselves if they knew how rich the earth is, how many
wonderful things live in it ! "

Nikolay listened to her raptures, smiled, and brought
her new illustrated books.

In the evening visitors often gathered in his house —
Alexey Vasilyevich, a handsome man, pale-faced, black-
bearded, sedate, and taciturn ; Roman Petrovich, a pim-
ply, round-headed individual always smacking his lips
regretfully ; Ivan Danilovich, a short, lean fellow with a
pointed beard and thin hair, impetuous, vociferous, and
sharp as an awl, and Yegor, always joking with his com-
rades about his sickness. Sometimes other people were
present who had come from various distant cities. The
long conversations always turned on one and the same
thing, on the working people of the world. The comrades
discussed the workingmen, got into arguments about
them, became heated, waved their hands, and drank much
tea; while Nikolay, in the noise of the conversation, si-
lently composed proclamations. Then he read them to
the comrades, who copied them on the spot in printed
letters. The mother carefully collected the pieces of the
torn, rough copies, and burned them.

She poured out tea for them, and wondered at the
warmth with which they discussed life and the working-
people, the means whereby to sow truth among them the
sooner and the better, and how to elevate their spirit.
These problems were always agitating the comrades;
their lives revolved about them. Often they angrily dis-
agreed, blamed one another for something, got offended,
and again discussed.

The mother felt that she knew the life of the work-
ingmen better than these people, and saw more clearly
than they the enormity of the task they assumed. She
could look upon them with the somewhat melancholy in-

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MOTHMR ^^

dulgence of a grown-up person toward children who play
man and wife without understanding the drama of
the relation. y^

Sometimes Sashenka came. She never stayed long,
and always spoke in a businesslike way without smiling.
She did not once fail to ask on leaving how Pavel Mik-
haylovich was.

" Is he well ? " she would ask.

" Thank God ! So, so. He's in good spirits."

" Give him my regards," the girl would request, and
then disappear.

Sometimes the mother complained to Sashenka be-
cause Pavel was detained so long and no date was yet set
for his trial. Sashenka looked gloomy, and maintained
silence, her fingers twitching. Nilovna was tempted to
say to her : " My dear girl, why, I know you love him, I
know." But Sashenka's austere face, her compressed lips,
and her dry, businesslike manner, which seemed to be-
token a desire for silence as soon as possible, forbade
any demonstration of sentiment. With a sigh the mother
mutely clasped the hand that the girl extended to her, and
thought : " My unhappy girl ! "

Once Natasha came. She showed great delight at see-
ing the mother, kissed her, and among other things an-
nounced to her quietly, as if she had just thought of the
thing :

" My mother died. Poor woman, she's dead ! " She
wiped her eyes with a rapid gesture of her hands, and
continued : " I'm sorry for her. She was not yet fifty.
She had a long life before her still. But when you look
at it from the other side you can't help thinking that
death is easier than such a life — always alone, a stranger
to everybody, needed by no one, scared by the shouts of
my father. Can you call that living ? People live waiting

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MOTHMR

for something good, and she had nothing to expect except
insults."

" You're right, Natasha," said the mother musingly.
" People live expecting some good, and if there's noth-
ing to expect, what sort of a life is it ? " Kindly
stroking Natasha's hand, she asked : " So you're alone
now ? "

" Alone ! " the girl rejoined lightly.

The mother was silent, then suddenly remarked with
a smile:

" Never mind ! A good person does not live alone.
People will always attach themselves to a good person."

Natasha was now a teacher in a little town where
there was a textile mill, and Nilovna occasionally pro-
cured illegal books, proclamations, and newspapers for
her. The distribution of literature, in fact, became the
mother's occupation. Several times a month, dressed as
a nun or as a peddler of laces or small linen articles, as
a rich merchant's wife or a religious pilgrim, she rode or
walked about with a sack on her back, or a valise in her
hand. Everywhere, in the train, in the steamers, in ho-
tels and inns, she behaved simply and unobtrusively.
She was the first to enter into conversations with stran-
gers, fearlessly drawing attention to herself by her kind,
sociable talk and the confident manner of an experienced
person who has seen and heard much.

She liked to speak to people, liked to listen to their
stories of life, their complaints, their perplexities, and
lamentations. Her heart was bathed in joy each time
she noticed in anybody poignant discontent with life,
that discontent which, protesting against the blows of
fate, earnestly seeks to find an answer to its questions.
Before her the picture of human life unrolled itself ever
wider and more varicolored, that restless, anxious life

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MOTHER

passed in the struggle to fill the stomach. Everywhere
she clearly saw the coarse, bare striving, insolent in its
openness, deceiving man, robbing him, pressing out of
him as much sap as possible, draining him of his very
lifeblood. She realized that there was plenty of every-
thing upon earth, but that the people were in want,
and lived half starved, surrounded by inexhaustible
wealth. In the cities stood churches filled with gold and
silver, not needed by God, and at the entrance to the
churches shivered the beggars vainly awaiting a little
copper coin to be thrust into their hands. Formerly she
had seen this, too — rich churches, priestly vestments
sewed with gold threads, and the hovels of the poor,
their ignominious rags. But at that time the thing
had seemed natural; now the contrast was irreconcil-
able and insulting to the poor, to whom, she knew, the
churches were both nearer and more necessary than to
the rich.

From the pictures and stories of Christ, she knew
also that he was a friend of the poor, that he dressed
simply. But in the churches, where poverty came to him
for consolation, she saw him nailed to the cross with
insolent gold, she saw silks and satins flaunting in the face
of want. The words of Rybin occurred to her : " They
have mutilated even our God for us, they have turned
everything in their hands against us. In the churches
they set up a scarecrow before us. They have dressed
God up in falsehood and calumny; they have distorted
His face in order to destroy our souls ! "

Without being herself aware of it, she prayed less;
yet, at the same time, she meditated more and more upon
Christ and the people who, without mentioning his name,
as though ignorant of him, lived, it seemed to her, ac-
cording to his will, and, like him, regarded the earth as the

305

MOTHMR

kingdom of the poor, and wanted to divide all the wealth
of the earth among the poor. Her reflections grew in
her soul, deepening and embracing everything she saw
and heard. They grew and assumed the bright aspect
of a prayer, suffusing an even glow over the entire dark
world, the whole of life, and all people.

And it seemed to her that Christ himself, whom she
had always loved with a perplexed love, with a compli-
cated feeling in which fear was closely bound up with
hope, and joyful emotion with melancholy, now came
nearer to her, and was different from what he had been.
His position was loftier, and he was more clearly visible
to her. His aspect turned brighter and more cheerful.
Now his eyes smiled on her with assurance, and with a
live inward power, as if he had in reality risen to life
for mankind, washed and vivified by the hot blood lav-
ishly shed in his name. Yet those who had lost their
blood modestly refrained from mentioning the name of
the unfortunate friend of the people.

The mother always returned to Nikolay from her
travels delightfully exhilarated by what she had seen and
heard on the road, bold and satisfied with the work she
had accomplished.

" It's good to go everywhere, and to see much," she
said to Nikolay in the evening. " You understand how
life is arranged. They brush the people aside and fling
them to the edge. The people, hurt and wounded, keep
moving about, even though they don't want to, and
though they keep thinking: 'What for? Why do they
drive us away? Why must we go hungry when there
is so much of everything? And how much intellect
there is everywhere! Nevertheless, we must remain in
stupidity and darkness. And where is He, the merci-
ful God, in whose eyes there are no rich nor poor, but

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MOTHER

all are children dear to His heart.' The people are
gradually revolting against this life. They feel that
untruth will stifle them if they don't take thought of
themselves."

And in her leisure hours she sat down to the books,
and again looked over the pictures, each time finding
something new, ever widening the panorama of life be-
fore her eyes, unfolding the beauties of nature and the
vigorous creative capacity of man. Nikolay often found
her poring over the pictures. He would smile and al-
ways tell her something wonderful. Struck by man's
daring, she would ask him incredulously, " Is it pos-
sible?"

Quietly, with unshakable confidence in the truth of
his prophecies, Nikolay peered with his kind eyes through
his glasses into the mother's face, and told her stories
of the future.

" There is no measure to the desires of man ; and his
power is inexhaustible," he said. "But the world, after
all, is still very slow in acquiring spiritual wealth. Be-
cause nowadays everyone desiring to free himself from
dependence is compelled to hoard, not knowledge but
money. However, when the people will have extermi-
nated greed and will have freed themselves from the
bondage of enslaving labor "

She listened to him with strained attention. Though
she but rarely understood the meaning of his words, yet
the calm faitii animating them penetrated her more and
more deeply.

" There are extremely few free men in the world —
that's its misfortune," he said.

This the mother understood. She knew men who had
emancipated themselves from greed and evil ; she under-
stood that if there were more such people, the dark, in-

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MOTHER

comprehensible, and awful face of life would become more
kindly and simple, better and brighter.

" A man must perforce be cruel," said Nikolay dis-
mally.

The mother nodded her head in confirmation. She
recalled the sayings of the Little Russian.

308

CHAPTER VI

'NCE Nikolay, usually so punctual, came
from his work much later than was his
wont, and said, excitedly rubbing his hands :
" Do you know, Nilovna, to-day at the vis-
iting hour one of our comrades disappeared
from prison ? But we have not succeeded in finding out
who."

The mother's body swayed, overpowered by excite-
ment. She sat down on a chair and asked with forced
quiet :

"Maybe it's Pasha?"

" Possibly. But the question is how to find him, how
to help him keep in concealment. Just now I was walk-
ing about the streets to see if I couldn't detect him. It
was a stupid thing of me to do, but I had to do something.
I'm going out again."

" I'll go, too," said the mother, rising.
" You go to Yegor, and see if he doesn't know any-
thing about it," Nikolay suggested, and quickly walked
away.

She threw a kerchief on her head, and, seized with
hope, swiftly sped along the streets. Her eyes dimmed
and her heart beat faster. Her head drooped ; she saw
nothing about her. It was hot. The mother lost breath,
and when she reached the stairway leading to Yegor's
quarters, she stopped, too faint to proceed farther. She
turned around and uttered an amazed, low cry, closing

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MOTHMR

her eyes for a second. It seemed to her that Nikolay
Vyesovshchikov was standing at the gate, his hands
thrust into his pockets, regarding her with a smile. But
when she looked again nobody was there.

" I imagined I saw him," she said to herself, slowly
walking up the steps and listening. She caught the sound
of slow steps, and stopping at a turn in the stairway, she
bent over to look below, and again saw the pockmarked
face smiling up at her.

" Nikolay ! Nikolay ! " she whispered, and ran down to
meet him. Her heart, stung by disappointment, ached
for her son.

" Go, go ! " he answered in an undertone, waving his
hand.

She quickly ran up the stairs, walked into Yegor's
room, and found him lying on the sofa. She gasped in a
whisper :

" Nikolay is out of prison ! "

" Which Nikolay ? " asked Yegor, raising his head
from the pillow. " There are two there."

" Vyesovshchikov. He's coming here ! "

" Fine ! But I can't rise to meet him."

Vyesovshchikov had already come into the room.
He locked the door after him, and taking off his hat
laughed quietly, stroking his hair. Yegor raised himself
on his elbows. _^^

" Please, signor, make yourself at home," he said with
a nod.

Without saying anything, a broad smile on his face,
Nikolay walked up to the mother -and grasped her hand.

" If I had not seen you I might as well have returned
to prison. I know nobody in the city. If I had gone to
the suburbs they would have seized me at once. So I
walked about, and thought what a fool I was — why had

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MOTHMR

I escaped? Suddenly I see Nilovna running; off I am,
after you."

" How did you make your escape ? "

Vyesovshchikov sat down awkwardly on the edge of
the sofa and pressed Yegor's hand.

" I don't know how," he said in an embarrassed man-
ner. " Simply a chance. I was taking my airing, and the
prisoners began to beat the overseer of the jail. There's
one overseer there who was expelled from the gendarm-
erie for stealing. He's a spy, an informer, and tortures
the life out of everybody. They gave him a drubbing,
there was a hubbub, the overseers got frightened and
blew their whistles. I noticed the gates open. I walked
up and saw an open square and the city. It drew me for-
ward and I went away without haste, as if in sleep. I
walked a little and bethought myself : ' Where am I to
go ? ' I looked around and the gates of the prison were
already closed. I began to feel awkward. I was sorry
for the comrades in general. It was stupid somehow. I
hadn't thought of going away."

" Hm ! " said Yegor. " Why, sir, you should have
turned back, respectfully knocked at the prison door, and
begged for admission. ' Excuse me,' you should have
said, ' I was tempted ; but here I am.' "

" Yes," continued Nikolay, smiling ; " that would have
been stupid, too, I understand. But for all that, it's not
nice to the other comrades. I walk away without saying
anything to anybody. Well, I kept on going, and I came
across a child's funeral. I followed the hearse with my
head bent down, looking at nobody. I sat down in the
cemetery and enjoyed the fresh air. One thought came
into my head "

" One ? " asked Yegor. Fetching breath, he added :
" I suppose it won't feel crowded there."

3"

MOTHER

Vyesovshchikov laughed without taking oflEense, and
shook his head.

" Well, my brain's not so empty now as it used to be.
And you, Yegor Ivanovich, still sick ? "

" Each one does what he can. No one has a right to
interfere with him." Yegor evaded an answer; he
coughed hoarsely. " Continue."

" Then I went to a public museum. I walked about
there, looked around, and kept thinking all the time:
' Where am I to go next ? ' I even began to get angry
with myself. Besides, I got dreadfully hungry. I walked
into the street and kept on trotting. I felt very down in
the mouth. And then I saw police officers looking at
everybody closely. ' Well,' thinks I to myself, ' with my
face I'll arrive at God's judgment seat pretty soon.'
Suddenly Nilovna came running opposite me. I turned
about, and off I went after her. That's all."

" And I didn't even see you," said the mother guiltily.

" The comrades are probably uneasy about me. They
must be wondering where I am," said Nikolay, scratching
his head.

" Aren't you sorry for the officials ? I guess they're
uneasy, too," teased Yegor. He moved heavily on the
sofa, and said seriously and solicitously : " However,
jokes aside, we must hide you — ^by no means as easy as
pleasant. If I could get up — " His breath gave out.
He clapped his hand to his breast, and with a weak move-
ment began to rub it.

" You've gotten very sick, Yegor Ivanovich," said
Nikolay gloomily, drooping his head. The mother sighed
and cast an anxious glance about the little, crowded room.

" That's my own affair. Granny, you ask about Pavel.
No reason to feign indifference," said Yegor.

Vyesovshchikov smiled broadly.
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MOTHMR

" Pavel's all right ; he's strong ; he's like an elder
among us ; he converses with the officials and gives com-
mands ; he's respected. There's good reason for it."

Vlasova nodded her head, listening, and looked side-
wise at the swollen, bluish face of Yegor, congealed to
immobility, devoid of expression. It seemed strangely
flat, only the eyes flashed with animation and cheerfulness.

" I wish you'd give me something to eat. I'm fright-
fully hungry," Nikolay cried out unexpectedly, and
smiled sheepishly.

" Granny, there's bread on the shelf — ^give it to him.
Then go out in the corridor, to the second door on the
left, and knock. A woman will open it, and you'll tell her
to snatch up everything she has to eat and come here."

" Why everything ? " protested Nikolay.

"Don't get excited. It's not much — ^maybe nothing
at all."

The mother went out and rapped at the door. She
strained her ears for an answering sound, while think-
ing of Yegor with dread and grief. He was dying, she
knew.

"Who is it?" somebody asked on the other side of
the door.

" It's from Yegor Ivanovich," the mother whispered.
" He asked you to come to him."

" I'll come at once," the woman answered without
opening the door. The mother waited a moment, and
knocked again. This time the door opened quickly, and a
tall woman wearing glasses stepped out into the hall, rap-
idly tidying the ruffled sleeves of her waist. She asked
the mother harshly:

"What do you want?"

" I'm from Yegor Ivanovich."

" Aha! Come! Oh, yes, I know youl " the woman

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MOTHER

exclaimed in a low voice. " How do you do ? It's dark
here."

Nilovna looked at her and remembered that this
woman had come to Nikolay's home on rare occasions.

" All comrades ! " flashed through her mind.

The woman compelled Nilovna to walk in front.

"Is he feeling bad?"

" Yes ; he's lying down. He asked you to bring some-
thing to eat."

" Well, he doesn't need anything to eat."

When they walked into Yegor's room they were met
by the words :

" I'm preparing to join my forefathers, my friend.
Liudmila Vasilyevna, this man walked away from prison
without the permission of the authorities — a bit of shame-
less audacity. Before all, feed him, then hide him some-
where for a day or two."

The woman nodded her head and looked carefully at
the sick man's face.

" Stop your chattering, Yegor," she said sternly.
" You know it's bad for you. You ought to have sent for
me at once, as soon as they came. And I see you didn't
take your medicine. What do you mean by such negli-
gence? You youi'self say it's easier for you to breathe
after a dose. Comrade, come to my place. They'll soon
call for Yegor from the hospital."

"So I'm to go to the hospital, after all?" asked
Yegor, puckering up his face.

" Yes, I'll be there with you."

"There, too?"

"Hush!"

As she talked she adjusted the blanket on Yegor's
breast, looked fixedly at Nikolay, and with her eyes meas-
ured the quantity of medicine in the bottle. She spoke

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MOTHMR

evenly, not loud, but in a resonant voice. Her movements
were easy, her face was pale, with large blue circles
around her eyes. Her black eyebrows almost met at
the bridge of the nose, deepening the setting of her
dark, stern eyes. Her face did not please the mother;
it seemed haughty in its sternness and immobility, and
her eyes were, rayless. She always spoke in a tone of
command.

" We are going away," she continued. " I'll return
soon. Give Yegor a tablespoon of this medicine."

" Very well," said the mother.

" And don't let him speak." She walked away, tak-
ing Nikolay with her.

" Admirable woman ! " said Yegor with a sigh.
" Magnificent woman ! You ought to be working with
her, granny. You see, she gets very much worn out. It's
she that does all the printing for us."

" Don't speak. Here, you'd better take this medicine,"
the mother said gently.

He swallowed the medicine and continued, for some
reason screwing up one eye:

" I'll die all the same, even if I don't speak."

He looked into the mother's face with his other eye,
and his lips slowly formed themselves into a smile. The
mother bent her head, a sharp sensation of pity bringing
tears into her eyes.

" Never mind, granny. It's natural. The pleasure of
living carries with it the obligation to die."

The mother put her hand on his, and again said softly :

" Keep quiet, please ! "

He shut his eyes as if listening to the rattle in his
breast, and went on stubbornly.

" It's senseless to keep quiet, granny. What'U I gain
by keeping quiet? A few superfluous seconds of agony.
21 315

MOTHMR

And I'll lose the great pleasure of chattering with a good
person. I think that in the next world there aren't such
good people as here."

The mother uneasily interrupted him.

" The lady will come, and she'll scold me because
you talk."

" She's no lady. She's a revolutionist, the daughter of
a village scribe, a teacher. She is sure to scold you any-
how, granny. She scolds everybody always." And,
slowly moving his lips with an effort, Yegor began to
relate the life history of his neighbor. His eyes smiled.
The mother saw that he was bantering her purposely.
As she regarded his face, covered with a moist blueness,
she thought distressfully that he was near to death.

Liudmila entered, and carefully closing the door after
her, said, turning to Vlasova :

" Your friend ought to change his clothes without fail,
and leave here as soon as possible. So go at once; get
him some clothes, and bring them here. I'm sorry Sofya's
not here. Hiding people is her specialty."

" She's coming to-morrow," remarked Vlasova, throw-
ing her shawl over her shoulders. Every time she was
given a commission the strong desire seized her to ac-
complish it promptly and well, and she was unable to
think of anything but the task before her. Now, low-
ering her brows with an air of preoccupation, she asked
zealously :

"How should we dress him, do you think?"

" It's all the same. It's night, you know."

" At night it's worse. There are less people on the
street, and the police spy around more; and, you know,
he's rather awkward."

Yegor laughed hoarsely.

" You're a young girl yet, granny."
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MOTHMR

" May I visit you in the hospital ? "

He nodded his head, coughing. Liudmila glanced at
the mother with her dark eyes and suggested :

" Do you want to take turns with me in attending
him ? Yes ? Very well. And now go quickly."

She vigorously seized Vlasova by the hand, with per-
fect good nature, however, and led her out of the door.

" You mustn't be offended," she said softly, " because
I dismiss you so abruptly. I know it's rude; but it's
harmful for him to speak, and I still have hopes of his
recovery." She pressed her hands together until the
bones cracked. Her eyelids drooped wearily over her
eyes.

The explanation disturbed the mother. She mur-
mured :

" Don't talk that way. The idea ! Who thought of
rudeness ? I'm going ; good-by."

" Look out for the spies ! " whispered the woman.

" I know," the mother answered with some pride.

She stopped for a minute outside the gate to look
around sharply under the pretext of adjusting her ker-
chief. She was already able to distinguish spies in a
street crowd almost immediately. She recognized the
exaggerated carelessness of their gait, their strained at-
tempt to be free in their gestures, the expression of tedium
on their faces, the wary, guilty glimmer of their rest-
less, unpleasantly sharp gaze badly hidden behind their
feigned candor.

This time she did not notice any familiar faces, and
walked along the street without hastening. She took a
cab, and gave orders to be driven to the market place.
When buying the clothes for Nikolay she bargained vig-
orously with the salespeople, all the while scolding at her
drunken husband whom she had to dress anew every

317

MOTffMR

month. The tradespeople paid Httle attention to her talk,
but she herself was greatly pleased with her ruse. On
the road she had calculated that the police would, of
course, understand the necessity for Nikolay to change
his clothes, and would send spies to the market. With
such naive precautions, she returned to Yegor's quarters ;
then she had to escort Nikolay to the outskirts of the
city. They took different sides of the street, and it was
amusing to the mother to see how Vyesovshchikov strode
along heavily, with bent head, his legs getting tangled in
the long flaps of his russet-colored coat, his hat falling
over his nose. In one of the deserted streets, Sashenka
met them, and the mother, taking leave of Vyesovshchi-
kov with a nod of her head, turned toward home with a
sigh of relief.

" And Pasha is in prison with Andriusha ! " she
thought Sadly.

Nikolay met her with an anxious exclamation:

" You know that Yegor is in a very bad way, very
bad ! He was taken to the hospital. Liudmila was here.
She asks you to come to her there."

"At the hospital?"

Adjusting his eyeglasses with a nervous gesture, Nik-
olay helped her on with her jacket and pressed her hand
in a dry, hot grasp. His voice was low and tremulous.
" Yes. Take this package with you. Have you disposed
of Vyesovshchikov all right? "

" Yes, all right."

" I'll come to Yegor, too ! "

The mother's head was in a whirl with fatigue, and
Nikolay's emotion aroused in her a sad premonition of
the drama's end.

" So he's dying — ^he's dying ! " The dark thought
knocked at her brain heavily and dully.

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MOTHER

But when she entered the bright, tidy little room of
the hospital and saw Yegor sitting on the pallet propped
against the wide bosom of the pillow, and heard him
laugh with zest, she was at once relieved. She paused at
the door, smiling, and listened to Yegor talk with the
physician in a hoarse but lively voice.

" A cure is a reform."

" Don't talk nonsense ! " the physician cried ofiSciously
in a thin voice.

" And I'm a revolutionist ! I detest reforms ! "

The physician, thoughtfully pulling his beard, felt the
dropsical swelling on Yegor's face. The mother knew
him well. He was Ivan Danilovich, one of the close
comrades of Nikolay. She walked up to Yegor, who
thrust forth his tongue by way of welcome to her. The
physician turned around.

"Ah, Nilovnal How are you? Sit down. What
have you in your hand? "

" It must be books."

" He mustn't read."

" The doctor wants to make an idiot of me," Yegor
complained.

" Keep quiet ! '■ the physician commanded, and began
to write in a little book.

The short, heavy breaths, accompanied by rattling in
his throat, fairly tore themselves from Yegor's breast,
and his face became covered with thin perspiration.
Slowly raising his swollen hand, he wiped his forehead
with the palm. The strange immobility of his swollen
cheeks denaturalized his broad, good face, all the features
of which disappeared under the dead, bluish mask. Only
his eyes, deeply sunk beneath the swellings, looked out
clear and smiling benevolently.

" Oh, Science, I'm tired! May I lie down? "
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MOTHER

" No, you mayn't."

" But I'm going to lie down after you go."

" Nilovna, please don't let him. It's bad for him,"

The mother nodded. The physician hurried ofif with
short steps. Yegor threw back his head, closed his eyes
and sank into a torpor, motionless save for the twitching
of his fingers. The white walls of the little room seemed
to radiate a dry coldness and a pale, faceless sadness.
Through the large window peered the tufted tops of the
lime trees, amid whose dark, dusty foliage yellow stains
were blazing, the cold touches of approaching autumn.

" Death is coming to me slowly, reluctantly," said
Yegor without moving and without opening his eyes.
" He seems to be a little sorry for me. I was such a fine,
sociable chap."

" You'd better keep quiet, Yegor Ivanovich ! " the
mother bade, quietly stroking his hand.

" Wait, granny, I'll be silent soon."

Losing breath every once in a while, enunciating the
words with a mighty effort, he continued* his talk, inter-
rupted by long spells of faintness.

" It's splendid to have you with me. It's pleasant to
see your face, granny, and your eyes so alert, and your
naivete. ' How will it end ? ' I ask myself. It's sad to
think that the prison, exile, and all sorts of vile out-
rages await you as everybody else. Are you afraid of
prison ? "

" No," answered the mother softly.

" But after all the prison is a mean place. It's the
prison that knocked me up. To tell you the truth, I don't
want to die."

" Maybe you won't die yet," the mother was about to
say, but a look at his face froze the words on her lips.

" If I hadn't gotten sick I could have worked yet, not
3^

MOTHER

badly ; but if you can't work there's nothing to live for,
and it's stupid to live."

" That's true, but it's no consolation." Audrey's
words flashed into the mother's mind, and she heaved a
deep sigh. She was greatly fatigued by the day, and
hungry. The monotonous, humid, hoarse whisper of
the sick man filled the room and crept helplessly along
the smooth, cold, shining walls. At the windows the
dark tops of the lime trees trembled quietly. It was
growing dusk, and Yegor's face on the pillow turned
dark.

" How bad I feel," he said. He closed his eyes and
became silent. The mother listened to his breathing,
looked around, and sat for a few minutes motionless,
seized by a cold sensation of sadness. Finally she dozed
off.

The muffled sound of a door being carefully shut
awakened her, and she saw the kind, open eyes of Yegor.

" I fell asleep ; excuse me," she said quietly.

" And you excuse me," he answered, also quietly. At
the door was heard a rustle and Liudmila's voice.

" They sit in the darkness and whisper. Where is the
knob?"

The room trembled and suddenly became filled with
a white, unfriendly light. In the middle of the room stood
Liudmila, all black, tall, straight, and serious. Yegor
transferred his glance to her, and making a great effort
to move his body, raised his hand to his breast.

" What's the matter ? " exclaimed Liudmila, running
up to him. He looked at the mother with fixed eyes, and
now they seemed large and strangely bright.

"Wait!" he whispered.

Opening his mouth wide, he raised his head and
stretched his hand forward. The mother carefully held it

321

MOTHMR

up and caught her breath as she looked into his face.
With a convulsive and powerful movement of his neck
he flung his head back, and said aloud :

" Give me air ! "

A quiver ran through his body; his head dropped
limply on his shoulder, and in his wide open eyes the cold
light of the lamp burning over the bed was reflected
dully.

" My darling ! " whispered the mother, firmly pressing
his hand, which suddenly grew heavy.

Liudmila slowly walked away from the bed, stopped
at the window and stared into space*

" He's dead ! " she said in an unusually loud voice
unfamiliar to Vlasova. She bent down, put her elbows
on the window sill, and repeated in dry, startled tones:
" He's dead ! He died calmly, like a man, without com-
plaint." And suddenly, as if struck a blow on the head,
she dropped faintly on her knees, covered her face, and
gave vent to dull, stifled groans.

322

CHAPTER VII

'HE mother folded Yegor's hands over his
breast and adjusted his head, which was
strangely warm, on the pillow. Then si-
lently wiping her eyes, she went to Liud-
mila, bent over her, and quietly stroked her
thick hair. The woman slowly turned around to her, her
dull eyes widened in a sickly way. She rose to her feet,
and with trembling lips whispered :

" I've known him for a long time. We were in exile
together. We went there together on foot, we sat in
prison together; at times it was intolerable, disgusting;
many fell in spirit."

Her dry, loud groans stuck in her throat. She over-
came them with an effort, and bringing her face nearer
to the mother's she continued in a quick whisper, moan-
ing without tears :

" Yet he was unconquerably jolly. He joked and
laughed, and covered up his suffering in a manly way,
always striving to encourage the weak. He was always
good, alert, kind. There, in Siberia, idleness depraves
people, and often calls forth ugly feelings toward life.
How he mastered such feelings! What a comrade he
was ! If you only knew. His own life was hard and
tormented ; but I know that nobody ever heard him com-
plain, not a soul — never ! Here was I, nearer to him than
others. I'm greatly indebted to his heart, to his mind.

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MOTHER

He gave me all he could of it ; and though exhausted, he
never asked either kindness or attention in return."

She walked up to Yegor, bent down and kissed him.
Her voice was husky as she said mournfully :

"Comrade, my dear, dear friend, I thank you with
all my heart! Good-by. I shall work as you worked —
unassailed by doubt — all my life — ^good-by ! "

The dry, sharp groans shook her body, and gasping
for breath she laid her head on the bed at Yegor's feet.
The mother wept silent tears which seared her cheeks.
For some reason she tried to restrain them. She wanted
to fondle Liudmila, and wanted to speak about Yegor
with words of love and grief. She looked through her
tears at his swollen face, at his eyes calmly covered by
his drooping eyelids as in sleep, and at his dark lips set
in a light, serene smile. It was quiet, and a bleak bright-
ness pervaded the room.

Ivan Danilovich entered, as always, with short, hasty
steps. He suddenly stopped in the middle of the room,
and thrust his hands into his pockets with a quick
gesture.

" Did it happen long ago ? " His voice was loud and
nervous.

Neither woman replied. He quietly swung about,
and wiping his forehead went to Yegor, pressed his hand,
and stepped to one side.

" It's not strange — with his heart. It might have hap-
pened six months ago."

His voice, high-pitched and jarringly loud for the
occasion, suddenly broke off. Leaning his back against
the wall, he twisted his beard with nimble fingers, and
winking his eyes, rapidly looked at the group by the bed.

" One more ! " he muttered.

Liudmila rose and walked over to the window. The
324

MOTWSR

mother raised her head and glanced around with a sigh.
A minute afterwards they all three stood at the open
window, pressing close against one another, and looked
at the dusky face of the autumn night. On the black
tops of the trees glittered the stars, endlessly deepening
the distance of the sky.

Liudmila took the mother by the hand, and silently
pressed her head to her shoulders. The physician nerv-
ously bit his lips and wiped his eyeglasses with his hand-
kerchief. In the stillness beyond the window the noc-
turnal noise of the city heaved wearily, and cold air blew
on their faces and shoulders. Liudmila trembled; the
mother saw tears running down her cheeks. From the
corridor of the hospital floated confused, dismal sounds.
The three stood motionless at the window, looking
silently into the darkness.

The mother felt herself not needed, and carefully
freeing her hand, went to the door, bowing to Yegor.

"Are you going?" the physician asked softly with-
out looking around.

" Yes."

In the street she thought with pity of Liudmila, re-
membering her scant tears. She couldn't even have a
good cry. Then she pictured to herself Liudmila and the
physician in the extremely light white room, the dead
eyes of Yegor behind them. A compassion for all people
oppressed her. She sighed heavily, and hastened her
pace, driven along by her tumultuous feelings.

" I must hurry," she thought in obedience to a sad but
encouraging power that jostled her from within.

The whole of the following day the mother was busy
with preparations for the funeral. In the evening when
she, Nikolay, and Sofya were drinking tea, quietly talk-
ing about Yegor, Sashenka appeared, strangely brim-

325

MOTHER

ming over with good spirits, her cheeks brilliantly red,
her eyes beaming happily. She seemed to be filled with
some joyous hope. Her animation contrasted sharply
with the mournful gloom of the others. The discordant
note disturbed them and dazzled them like a fire that
suddenly flashes in the darkness. Nikolay thoughtfully
struck his fingers on the table and smiled quietly.

" You're not like yourself to-day, Sasha."

" Perhaps," she laughed happily.

The mother looked at her in mute remonstrance, and
Sofya observed in a tone of admonishment:

" And we were talking about Yegor Ivanovich."

" What a wonderful fellow, isn't he ? " she exclaimed.
" Modest, proof against doubt, he probably never yielded
to sorrow. I have never seen him without a joke on his
lips ; and what a worker ! He is an artist of the revolu-
tion, a great master, who skillfully manipulates revolu-
tionary thoughts. With what simplicity and power he
always draws his pictures of falsehood, violence and un-
truth! And what a capacity he has for tempering the
horrible with his gay humor which does not diminish
the force of facts but only the more brightly illumines his
inner thought! Always droll! I am greatly indebted to
him, and I shall never forget his merry eyes, his fun.
And I shall always feel the effect of his ideas upon me
in the time of my doubts — I love him ! "

She spoke in a moderated voice, with a melancholy
smile in her eyes. But the incomprehensible fire of her
gaze was not extinguished; her exultation was apparent
to everybody.

People love their own feelings — sometimes the very
feelings that are harmful to them — are enamored of them,
and often derive keen pleasure even from grief, a pleasure
that corrodes the heart. Nikolay, the mother, and Sofya

326

MOTHMR

were unwilling to let the sorrowful mood produced by
the death of their comrade give way to the joy brought
in by Sasha. Unconsciously defending their melancholy
right to feed on their sadness, they tried to impose their
feelings on the girl.

" And now he's dead," announced Sofya, watching
her carefully.

Sasha glanced around quickly, with a questioning
look. She knit her eyebrows and lowered her head. She
was silent for a short time, smoothing her hair with slow
strokes of her hand.

" He's dead ? " She again cast a searching glance
into their faces. " It's hard for me to reconcile myself
to the idea."

" But it's a fact," said Nikolay with a smile.

Sasha arose, walked up and down the room, and sud-
denly stopping, said in a strange voice:

" What does ' to die ' signify? What died? Did my
respect for Yegor die ? My love for him, a comrade ? The
memory of his mind's labor? Did that labor die? Did
all our impressions of him as of a hero disappear with-
out leaving a trace ? Did all this die ? This best in him
will never die out of me, I know. It seems to me we're
in too great a hurry to say of a man ' he's dead.' That's
the reason we too soon forget that a man never dies if we
don't wish our impressions of his manhood, his self-deny-
ing toil for the triumph of truth and happiness to dis-
appear. We forget that everything should always be
alive in living hearts. Don't be in a hurry to bury
the eternally alive, the ever luminous, along with a
man's body. The church is destroyed, but God is im-
mortal."

Carried away by her emotions she sat down, leaning
her elbows on the table, and continued more thought-

327

MOTHMR

fully in a lower voice, looking smilingly through mist-
covered eyes at the faces of the comrades:

" Maybe I'm talking nonsense. But life intoxicates
me by its wonderful complexity, by the variety of its phe-
nomena, which at times seem like a miracle to me. Per-
haps we are too sparing in the expenditure of our feel-
ings. We live a great deal in our thoughts, and that
spoils us to a certain extent. We estimate, but we don't
feel."

"Did anything good happen-to you?" asked Sofya
with a smile.

" Yes," said Sasha, nodding her head. " I had a
whole . night's talk with Vyesovshchikov. I didn't use
to like him. He seemed rude and dull. Undoubtedly that's
what he was. A dark, immovable irritation at every-
body lived in him. He always used to place himself, as
it were, like a dead weight in the center of things, and
wrathfuUy say, ' I, I, I.' There was something bour-
geois in this, low, and exasperating." She smiled, and
again took in everybody with her burning look.

" Now he says : ' Comrades ' — and you ought to hear
how he says it, with what a stirring, tender love. He
has grown marvelously simple and open-hearted, and
possessed with a desire to work. He has found himself,
he has measured his power, and knows what he is not.
But the main thing is, a true comradely feeling has been
born in him, a broad, loving comradeship, which smiles
in the face of every difficulty in life."

Vlasova listened to Sasha attentively. She was glad
to see this girl, always so stern, now softened, cheerful,
and happy. Yet from some deeps of her soul arose the
jealous thought : " And how about Pasha? "

" He's entirely absorbed in thoughts of the com-
rades " continued Sasha. " And do you know of what

328

MOTHER

he assures me ? Of the necessity of arranging an escape
for them. He says it's a very simple, easy matter."

Sofya raised her head, and said animatedly :

"And what do you think, Sasha? Is it feasible?''

The mother trembled as she set a cup of tea on the
table. Sasha knit her brows, her animation gone from
her. After a moment's silence, she said in a serious
voice, but smiling in joyous confusion:

" Hi's convinced. If everything is really as he says,
we ought to try. It's our duty." She blushed, dropped
into a chair, and lapsed into silence.

" My dear, dear girl ! " the mother thought, smiling.
Sofya also smiled, and Nikolay, looking tenderly into
Sasha's face, laughed quietly. The girl raised her head
with a stem glance for all. Then she paled, and her eyes
flashed, and she said dryly, the offense she felt evident in
her voice:

" You're laughing. I understand you. You consider
me personally interested in the case, don't you ? "

" Why, Sasha ? " asked Sofya, rising and going over
to her.

Agitated, pale, the girl continued:

" But I decline. I'll not take any part in deciding
the question if you consider it."

" Stop, Sasha," said Nikolay calmly.

The mother understood the girl. She went to her and
kissed her silently on her head. Sasha seized her hand,
leaned her cheek on it, and raised her reddened face,
looking into the mother's eyes, troubled and happy.
The mother silently stroked her hair. She felt sad at
heart. Sofya seated herself at Sasha's side, her arm
over her shoulder, and said, smiling into the girl's
eyes :

" You're a strange person."
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MOTHER

"Yes, I think I've grown foolish," Sasha acknowl-
edged. " But I don't like shadows."

" That'll do," said Nikolay seriously, but immediately
followed up the admonition by the businesslike remark:
" There can't be two opinions as to the escape, if it's pos-
sible to arrange it. But before everything, we must know
whether the comrades in prison want it."

Sasha drooped her head. Sofya, lighting a cigarette,
looked at her brother, and with a broad sweep of her
arm dropped the match in a corner.

" How is it possible they should not want it? " asked
the mother with a sigh. Sofya nodded to her, smiling,
and walked over to the window. The mother could not
understand the failure of the others to respond, and
looked at them in perplexity. She wanted so much to
hear more about the possibility of an escape.

" I must see Vyesovshchikov," said Nikolay.

" All right. To-morrow I'll tell you when and where,"
replied Sasha.

" What is he going to do ? " asked Sofya, pacing
through the room.

" It's been decided to make him compositor in a new
printing place. Until then he'll stay with the forester."

Sasha's brow lowered. Her face assumed its usual
severe expression. Her voice sounded caustic. Nikolay
walked up to the mother, who was washing cups, and
said to her:

" You'll see Pasha day after to-morrow. Hand him a
note when you're there. Do you understand ? We must
know."

" I understand. I understand," the mother answered
quickly. "I'll deliver it to him all right. That's my
business."

" I'm going," Sasha announced, and silently shook
330

MOTHBR

hands with everybody. She strode away, straight and
dry-eyed, with a peculiarly heavy tread.

" Poor girl ! " said Sofya softly.

"Ye-es," Nikolay drawled. Sofya put her hand
on the mother's shoulder and gave her a gentle little
shake as she sat in the chair.

" Would you love such a daughter ? " and Sofya
looked into the mother's face.

" Oh ! If I could see them together, if only for one
day ! " exclaimed Nilovna, ready to weep.

" Yes, a bit of happiness is good for everybody."

" But there are no people who want only a bit of
happiness," remarked Nikolay ; " and when there's much
of it, it becomes cheap."

Sofya sat herself at the piano, and began to play
something low and doleful.

331

CHAPTER VIII

'HE next morning a number of men and
women stood at the gate of the hospital
waiting for the cof35n of their comrade to
be carried out to the street. Spies watch-
fully circled about, their ears alert to catch
each sound, noting faces, manners, and words. From the
other side of the street a group of policemen with re-
volvers at their belts looked on. The impudence of the
spies, the mocking smiles of the police ready to show
their power, were strong provocatives to the crowd.
Some joked to cover their excitement; others looked
down on the ground sullenly, trying not to notice the
affronts; still others, unable to restrain their wrath,
laughed in sarcasm at the government, which feared
people armed with nothing but words. The pale blue
sky of autumn gleamed upon the round, gray paving
stones of the streets, strewn with yellow leaves, which
the wind kept whirling about under the people's feet.

The mother stood in the crowd. She looked around
at the familiar faces and thought with sadness : " There
aren't many of you, not many."

The gate opened, and the coffin, decorated with
wreaths tied with red ribbons, was carried out. The
people, as if inspired with one will, silently raised their
hats. A tall officer of police with a thick black mustache
on a red face unceremoniously jostled his way through
the crowd, followed by the soldiers, whose heavy boots

332

MOTHMR

trampled loudly on the stones. They made a cordon
around the coffin, and the officer said in a hoarse, com-
manding voice:

" Remove the ribbons, please ! "

The men and women pressed closely about him.
They called to him, waving their hands excitedly and try-
ing to push past one another. The mother caught the
flash of pale, agitated countenances, some of them with
quivering lips and tears.

" Down with violence ! " a young voice shouted nerv-
ously. But the lonely outcry was lost in the general
clamor.

The mother also felt bitterness in her heart. She
turned in indignation to her neighbor, a poorly dressed
young man.

" They don't permit a man's comrades even to bury
him as they want to. What do they mean by it? "

The hubbub increased and hostility waxed strong.
The coffin rocked over the heads of the people. The
silken rustling of the ribbons fluttering in the wind about
the heads and faces of the carriers could be heard amid
the noise of the strife.

The mother was seized with a shuddering dread of
the possible collision, and she quickly spoke in an under-
tone to her neighbors on the right and on the left :

" Why not let them have their way if they're like
that? The comrades ought to yield and remove the rib-
bons. What else can they do ? "

A loud, sharp voice subdued all the other noises:

" We demand not to be disturbed in accompanying on
his last journey one whom you tortured to death ! "

Somebody — ^apparently a girl — sang out in a high,
piping voice :

" In mortal strife your victims fell."
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MOTHMR

"Remove the ribbons, please, Yakovlev! Cut them
of3f!"

A saber was heard issuing from its scabbard. The
mother closed her eyes, awaiting shouts; but it grew
quieter.

The people growled like wolves at bay ; then silently
drooping their heads, crushed by the consciousness of
impotence, they moved forward, filling the street with
the noise of their tramping. Before them swayed the
stripped cover of the coffin with the crumpled wreaths,
and swinging from side to side rode the mounted police.
The mother walked on the pavement ; she was unable to
see the coffin through the dense crowd surrounding it,
which imperceptibly grew and filled the whole breadth of
the street. Back of the crowd also rose the gray figures
of the mounted police; at their sides, holding their
hands on their sabers, marched the policemen on foot,
and everywhere were the sharp eyes of the spies, famil-
iar to the mother, carefully scanning the faces of the
people.

" Good-by, comrade, good-by ! " plaintively sang two
beautiful voices.

" Don't ! " a shout was heard. " We will be silent,
comrades — for the present."

The shout was stern and imposing; it carried an
assuring threat, and it subdued the crowd. The sad
songs broke off ; the talking became lower ; only the noise
of heavy tramping on the stones filled the street with
its dull, even sound. Over the heads of the people, into
the transparent sky, and through the air it rose like the
first peal of distant thunder. People silently bore grief
and revolt in their breasts. Was it possible to carry on
the war for freedom peacefully? A vain illusion!
Hatred of violence, love of freedom blazed up and burned

334

MOTHER

the last remnants of the illusion to ashes in the hearts
that still cherished it. The steps became heavier, heads
were raised, eyes looked cold and firm, and feeling, out-
stripping thought, brought forth resolve. The cold wind,
waxing stronger and stronger, carried an unfriendly cloud
of dust and street litter in front of the people. It blew
through their garments and their hair, blinded their eyes
and struck against their breasts.

The mother was pained by these silent funerals with-
out priests and heart-oppressing chants, with thought-
ful faces, frowning brows, and the heavy tramp of the
feet. Her slowly circling thoughts formulated her im-
pression in the melancholy phrase :

" There are not many of you who stand up for the
truth, not many ; and yet they fear you, they fear you ! "

Her head bent, she strode along without looking
around. It seemed to her that they were burying, not
Yegor, but something else unknown and incomprehensi-
ble to her.

At the cemetery the procession for a long time moved
in and out along the narrow paths amid the tombs until
an open space was reached, which was sprinkled with
wretched little crosses. The people gathered about the
graves in silence. This austere silence of the living among
the dead promised something strange, which caused the
mother's heart to tremble and sink with expectation. The
wind whistled and sighed among the graves. The flowers
trembled on the lid of the cofiBn.

The police, stretching out in a line, assumed an atti-
tude of guard, their eyes on their captain. A tall, long-
haired, black-browed, pale young man without a hat stood
over the fresh grave. At the same time the hoarse voice
of the captain was heard :

" Ladies and gentlemen ! "
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MOTHER

" Comrades ! " began the black-browed man sono-
rotlsly.

" Permit me ! " shouted the police captain. " In pur-
suance of the order of the chief of police I announce to
you that I cannot permit a speech ! "

" I will say only a few words," the young man said
calmly. " Comrades ! over the grave of our teacher and
friend let us vow in silence never to forget his will; let
each one of us continue without ceasing to dig the grave
for the source of our country's misfortune, the evil power
that crushes it — ^the autocracy ! "

" Arrest him ! " shouted the police captain. But his
voice was drowned in the confused outburst of shouts.

" Down with the autocracy ! "

The police rushed through the crowd toward the ora-
tor, who, closely surrounded on all sides, shouted, wav-
ing his hand:

" Long live liberty ! We will live and die for it ! "

The mother shut her eyes in momentary fear. The
boisterous tempest of confused sounds deafened her.
The earth rocked under her feet; terror impeded her
breathing. The startling whistles of the policemen
pierced the air. The rude, commanding voice of the cap-
tain was heard; the women cried hysterically. The
wooden fences cracked, and the heavy tread of many
feet sounded dully on the dry ground. A sonorous
voice, subduing all the other voices, blared Uke a war
trumpet :

" Comrades ! Calm yourselves ! Have more respect
for yourselves ! Let me go ! Comrades, I insist, let me
go!"

The mother looked up, and uttered a low exclamation.
A blind impulse carried her forward with outstretched
hands. Not far from her, on a worn path between the

336

MOTHER

graves, the policemen were surrounding the long-haired
man and repelling the crowd that fell upon them from
all sides. The unsheathed bayonets flashed white and
cold in the air, flying over the heads of the people, and
falling quickly again with a spiteful hiss. Broken bits of
the fence were brandished; the baleful shouts of the
struggling people rose wildly.

The young man lifted his pale face, and his firm, calm
voice sounded above the storm of irritated outcries :

" Comrades ! Why do you spend your strength ? Our
task is to arm the heads."

He conquered. Throwing away their sticks, the peo-
ple dropped out of the throng one after the other; and
the mother pushed forward. She saw how Nikolay, with
his hat fallen back on his neck, thrust aside the people,
intoxicated with the commotion, and heard his reproach-
ful voice:

" Have you lost your senses ? Calm yourselves ! "

It seemed to her that one of his hands was red.

" Nikolay Ivanovich, go away ! " she shouted, rushing
toward him.

"Where are you going? They'll strike you there!"

She stopped. Seizing her by the shoulder, Sofya stood
at her side, hatless, her jacket open, her other hand
grasping a young, light-haired man, almost a boy. He
held his hands to his bruised face, and he muttered with
tremulous lips : " Let me go ! It's nothing."

" Take care of him ! Take him home to us ! Here's
a handkerchief. Bandage his face ! " Sofya gave the
rapid orders, and putting his hand into the mother's ran
away, saying:

" Get out of this place quickly, else they'll arrest you ! "

The people scattered all over the cemetery. After
them the policemen strode heavily among the graves,

337

MOTHMR

clumsily entangling themselves in the flaps of their mili-
tary coats, cursing, and brandishing their bayonets.

" Let's hurry ! " said the mother, wiping the boy's
face with the handkerchief. " What's your name? "

" Ivan." Blood spurted from his mouth. " Don't
be worried ; I don't feel hurt. He hit me over the head
with the handle of his saber, and I gave him such a blow
with a stick that he howled," the boy concluded, shaking
his blood-stained fist. " Wait— it'll be different. We'll
choke you without a fight, when we arise, all the working
people."

" Quick — dhurry ! " The mother urged him on, walk-
ing swiftly toward the little wicket gate. It seemed to her
that there, behind the fence in the field, the police were
lying in wait for them, ready to pounce on them and beat
them as soon as they went out. But on carefully opening
the gate, and looking out over the field clothed in the
gray garb of autumn dusk, its stillness and solitude at
once gave her composure.

" Let me bandage your face."

" Never mind. I'm not ashamed to be seen with it
as it is. The fight was honorable — he hit me — I hit
him "

The mother hurriedly bandaged his wound. The
sight of fresh, flowing blood filled her breast with ter-
ror and pity. Its humid warmth on her fingers sent a
cold, fine tremor through her body. Then, holding his
hand, she silently and quickly conducted the wounded
youth through the field. Freeing his mouth of the band-
age, he said with a smile :

" But where are you taking me, comrade? I can go
by myself."

But the mother perceived that he was reeling with
faintness, that his legs were unsteady, and his hands

338

MOTHER

twitched. He spoke to her in a weak voice, and ques-
tioned her without waiting for an answer :

" I'm a tinsmith, and who are you ? There were
three of us in Yegor Ivanovich's circle — three tinsmiths
— and there were twelve men in all. We loved him very
much — ^may he have eternal life! — although I don't be-
lieve in God — it's they, the dogs, that dupe us with God,
so that we should obey the authorities and suffer life pa-
tiently without kicking."

In one of the streets the mother hailed a cab and put
Ivan into it. She whispered, " Now be silent," and care-
fully wrapped his face up in the handkerchief. He
raised his hand to his face, but was no longer able to free
his mouth. His hand fell feebly on his knees ; neverthe-
less he continued to mutter through the bandages :

" I won't forget those blows ; I'll score them against
ypu, my dear sirs ! With Yegor there was another stu-
dent, Titovich, who taught us political economy — ^he
was a very stern, tedious fellow — he was arrested."

The mother, drawing the boy to her, put his head on
her bosom in order to muffle his voice. It was not neces-
sary, however, for he suddenly grew heavy and silent. In
awful fear, she looked about sidewise out of the corners
of her eyes. She felt that the policemen would issue from
some corner, would see Ivan's bandaged head, would
seize him and kill him.

"Been drinking?" asked the driver, turning on the
box with a benignant smile.

" Pretty full."

"Your son?"

"Yes, a shoemaker. I'm a cook."

Shaking the whip over the horse, the driver again
turned, and continued in a lowered voice :

" I heard there was a row in the cemetery just now.
339

MOTHMR

You see, they were burying one of the politicals, one of
those who are against the authorities. They have a crow
to pick with the authorities. He was buried by fellows
like him, his friends, it must be ; and they up and begin
to shout : ' Down with the authorities ! They ruin the peo-
ple.' The police began to beat them. It's said some were
hewed down and killed. But the police got it, too." He
was silent, shaking his head as if afflicted by some sorrow,
and uttered in a strange voice : " They don't even let the
dead alone; they even bother people in their graves."

The cab rattled over the stones. Ivan's head jostled
softly against the mother's bosom. The driver, sitting
half-turned from his horse, mumbled thoughtfully:

" The people are beginning to boil. Every now and
then some disorder crops out. Yes! Last night the
gendarmes came to our neighbors, and kept up an ado
till morning, and in the morning they led away a black-
smith. It's said they'll take him to the river at night
and drown him. And the blacksmith — well — ^he was a
wise man — ^he understood a great deal — and to under-
stand, it seems, is forbidden. He used to come to us and
say : ' What sort of life is the cabman's life? ' ' It's true,'
we say, ' the life of a cabman is worse than a dog's.' "

" Stop ! " the mother said.

Ivan awoke from the shock of the sudden halt, and
groaned softly.

" It shook him up ! " remarked the driver. " Oh,
whisky, whisky ! "

Ivan shifted his feet about with difficulty. His whole
body swaying, he walked through the entrance, and said :

" Nothing — comrade, I can get along."

340

CHAPTER IX

'OFYA was already at home when they
reached the house. She met the mother
with a cigarette in her teeth. She was
somewhat ruffled, but, as usual, bold and
assured of manner. Putting the wounded
man on the sofa, she deftly unbound his head, giving
orders and screwing up her eyes from the smoke of her
cigarette.

" Ivan Danilovich ! " she called out. " He's been
brought here. You are tired, Nilovna. You've had
enough fright, haven't you? Well, rest now. Nikolay,
quick, give Nilovna some tea and a glass of port."

Dizzied by her experience, the mother breathing heav-
ily and feeling a sickly pricking in her breast, said:
" Don't bother about me."

But her entire anxious being begged for attention and
kindnesses.

From the next room entered Nikolay with a bandaged
hand, and the doctor, Ivan Danilovich, all disheveled,
his hair standing on end like the spines of a hedgehog.
He quickly stepped to Ivan, bent over him, and said:

"Water, Sofya Ivanovich, more water, clean linen
strips, and cotton."

The mother walked toward the kitchen; but Nikolay
took her by the arm with his left hand, and led her into
the dining room.

" He didn't speak to you ; he was speaking to Sofya.
341

MOTHER

You've had enough suffering, my dear woman, haven't
you?"

The mother met Nikolay's fixed, sympathetic glance,
and, pressing his head, exclaimed with a groan she could
not restrain:

" Oh, my darling, how fearful it was ! They mowed
the comrades down ! They mowed them down ! "

" I saw it," said Nikolay, giving her a glass of
wine, and nodding his head. " Both sides grew a little
heated. But don't be uneasy ; they used the flats of their
swords, and it seems only one was seriously wounded.
I saw him struck, and I myself carried him out of the
crowd."

His face and voice, and the warmth and brightness
of the room quieted Vlasova. Looking gratefully at
him, she asked:

" Did they hit you, too? "

" It seems to me that I myself through carelessness
knocked my hand against something and tore off the
skin. Drink some tea. The weather is cold and you're
dressed lightly."

She stretched out her hand for the cup and saw that
her fingers were stained with dark clots of blood. She
instinctively dropped her hands on her knees. Her skirt
was damp. Ivan Danilovich came in in his vest, his
shirt sleeves rolled up, and in response to Nikolay's mute
question, said in his thin voice :

" The wound on his face is slight. His skull, how-
ever, is fractured, but not very badly. He's a strong
fellow, but he's lost a lot of blood. We'll take him over
to the hospital."

" Why? Let him stay here! "exclaimed Nikolay.

" To-day he may ; and — well — ^to-morrow, too ; but
after that it'll be more convenient for us to have him

342

MOTHER

at the hospital. I have no time to pay visits. You'll
write a. leaflet about the affair at the cemetery, won't
you?"

"Of course!"

The mother rose quietly and walked into the kitchen.

" Where are you going, Nilovna ? " Nikolay stopped
her with solicitude. " Sofya can get along by herself."

She looked at him and started and smiled strangely.

" I'm all covered with blood."

While changing her dress she once again thought of
the calmness of these people, of their ability to recover
from the horrible, an ability which clearly testified to
their manly readiness to meet any demand made on them
for work in the cause of truth. This thought, steadying
the mother, drove fear from her heart.

When she returned to the room where the sick man
lay, she heard Sofya say, as she bent over him:

" That's nonsense, comrade ! "

" Yes, I'll incommode you," he said faintly.

" You keep still. That's better for you."

The mother stood back of Sofya, and putting her
hand on her shoulders peered with a smile into the face
of the sick man. She related how he had raved in
the presence of the cabman and frightened her by his
lack of caution. Ivan heard her; his eyes turned fever-
ishly, he smacked his lips, and at times exclaimed in a
confused low voice : " Oh, what a fool I am ! "

" We'll leave you here," Sofya said, straightening out
the blanket. " Rest."

The mother and Sofya went to the dining room and
conversed there in subdued voices about the events of the
day. They already regarded the drama of the burial
as something remote, and looked with assurance toward
the future in deliberating on the work of the morrow.

343

MOTHER

Their faces wore a weary expression, but their thoughts
were bold.

They spoke of their dissatisfaction with themselves.
Nervously moving in his chair and gesticulating ani-
matedly the physician, dulling his thin, sharp voice with
an effort, said:

" Propaganda ! propaganda ! There's too little of it
now. The young workingmen are right. We must ex-
tend the field of agitation. The workingmen are right,
I say."

Nikolay answered somberly :

" From everywhere come complaints of not enough
literature, and we still cannot get a good printing estab-
lishment. Liudmila is wearing herself out. She'll get
sick if we don't see that she gets assistance."

" And Vyesovshchikov ? " asked Sofya.

" He cannot live in the city. He won't be able to go
to work until he can enter the new printing establish-
ment. And one man is still needed for it."

" Won't I do ? " the mother asked quietly.

All three looked at her in silence for a short while.

" No, it's too hard for you, Nilovna," said Nikolay.
" You'll have to live outside the city and stop your visits
to Pavel, and in general "

With a sigh the mother said :

" For Pasha it won't be a great loss. And so far as I
am concerned these visits, too, are a torment; they tear
out my heart. I'm not allowed to speak of anything; I
stand opposite my son like a fool. And they look into
my mouth and wait to see something come out that
oughtn't."

Sofya groped for the mother's hand under the table
and pressed it warmly with her thin fingers. Nikolay
looked at the mother fixedly while explaining to her that

344

MOTHER

she would have to serve in the new printing establishment
as a protection to the workers.

" I understand," she said. " I'll be a cook. I'll be
able to do it; I can imagine what's needed."

" How persistent you are ! " remarked Sofya.

The events of the last few days had exhausted the
mother ; and now as she heard of the possibility of living
outside the city, away from its bustle, she greedily
grasped at the chance.
• But Nikolay changed the subject of conversation.

" What are you thinking about, Ivan ? " He turned
to the physician.

Raising his head from the table, the physician an-
swered sullenly:

" There are too few of us. That's what I'm thinking
of. We positively must begin to work more energet-
ically, and we must persuade Pavel and Andrey to
escape. They are both too invaluable to be sitting there
idle."

Nikolay lowered his brows and shook his head in
doubt, darting a glance at the mother.

As she realised the embarrassment they must feel in
speaking of her son in her presence, she walked out into
her own room.

There, lying in bed with open eyes, the murmur of
low talking in her ears, she gave herself up to anxious
thoughts. She wanted to see her son at liberty, but at
the same time the idea of freeing- him frightened her.
She felt that the struggle around her was growing keener
and that a sharp collision was threatening. The silent
patience of the people was wearing away, yielding to a
strained expectation of something new. The excitement
was growing perceptibly. Bitter words were tossed
about. Something novel and stirring was wafted from

345

MOTHMR

all quarters; every proclamation evoked lively discus-
sions in the market place, in the shops, among servants,
among workingmen. Every arrest aroused a timid, un-
comprehending, and sometimes unconscious sympathy
when judgment regarding the causes of the arrest was
expressed. She heard the words that had once fright-
ened her — riot, socialism, politics — uttered more and
more frequently among the simple folk, though accom-
panied by derision. However, behind their ridicule it
was impossible to conceal an eagerness to understand,
mingled with fear and hope, with hatred of the masters
and threats against them.

Agitation disturbed the settled, dark life of the people
in slow but wide circles. Dormant thoughts awoke, and
•men were shaken from their usual forced calm attitude
toward daily events. All this the mother saw more
clearly than others, because she, better than they, knew
the dismal, dead face of existence; she stood nearer to
it, and now saw upon it the wrinkles of hesitation and
turmoil, the vague hunger for the new. She both rejoiced
over the change and feared it. She rejoiced because
she regarded this as the cause of her son ; she feared be-
cause she knew that if he emerged from prison he would
stand at the head of all, in the most dangerous place, and
— he would perish.

She often felt great thoughts needful to everybody
stirring in her bosom, but scarcely ever was able to make
them live in words ; and they oppressed her heart with a
dumb, heavy sadness. Sometimes the image of her son
grew before her until it assumed the proportions of a
giant in the old fairy tales. He united within himself all
the honest thoughts she had heard spoken, all the people
that she liked, everything heroic of which she knew.
Then, moved with delight in him, she exulted in quiet

346

moths;r

rapture. An indistinct hope filled her. " Everything will
be well — everything ! " Her love, the love of a mother,
was fanned into a flame, a veritable pain to her heart.
Then the motherly affection hindered the growth of the
broader human feeling, burned it ; and in place of a great
sentiment a small, dismal thought beat faint-heartedly
in the gray ashes of alarm : " He will perish ; he will
fall!"

Late that night the mother sank into a heavy sleep,
but rose early, her bones stiff, her head aching. At mid-
day she was sitting in the prison office opposite Pavel
and looking through a mist in her eyes at his bearded,
swarthy face. She was watching for a chance to deliver
to him the note she held tightly in her hand.

" I am well and all are well," said Pavel in a mod-
erated voice. " And how are you ? "

" So so. Yegor Ivanovich died," she said mechan-
ically.

" Yes ? " exclaimed Pavel, and dropped his head.

"At the funeral the police got up a fight and ar-
rested one man/' the mother continued in her simple-
hearted way.

The thin-lipped assistant overseer of the prison
jumped from his chair and mumbled quickly :

"Cut that out; it's forbidden! Why don't you
understand? You know politics are prohibited."

The mother also rose from her chair, and as if failing
to comprehend him, she said guiltily :

" I wasn't discussing politics. I was telling about a
fight— and they did fight; that's true. They even broke
one fellow's head."

" All the same, please keep quiet— that is to say, keep
quiet about everything that doesn't concern you person-
ally— your family ; in general, your home."
23 347

MOTHMR

Aware that his speech was confused, he sat down in
his chair and arranged papers.

" I'm responsible for what you say," he said sadly
and wearily.

The mother looked around and quickly thrust the note
into Pavel's hand. She breathed a deep sigh of relief.

" I don't know what to speak about."

Pavel smiled :

" I don't know either."

" Then why pay visits ? " said the overseer excitedly.
" They have nothing to say, but they come here anyhow
and bother me."

" Will the trial take place soon ? " asked the mother
after a pause.

" The procurator was here the other day, and he said
it will come off soon."

" You've been in prison half a year already 1 "

They spoke to each other about matters of no signifi-
cance to either. The mother saw Pavel's eyes look into
her face softly and lovingly. Even and calm as before,
he had not changed, save that his wrists were whiter, and
his beard, grown long, made him look older. The mother
experienced a strong desire to do something pleasant for
him — tell him about Vyesovshchikov, for instance. So,
without changing her tone, she continued in the same
voice in which she spoke of the needless and uninterest-
ing things.

" I saw your godchild." Pavel fixed a silent question-
ing look on her eyes. She tapped her fingers on her
cheeks to picture to him the pockmarked face of Vyes-
ovshchikov.

" He's all right ! The boy is alive and well. He'll
soon get his position — you remember how he always
asked for hard work ? "

348

MOTHMR

Pavel understood, and gratefully nodded his head.
" Why, of course I remember ! " he answered, with a
cheery smile in his eyes.

" Very well ! " the mother uttered in a satisfied tone,
content with herself and moved by his joy.

On parting with her he held her hand in a firm clasp.

" Thank you, mamma ! " The joyous feeling of
hearty nearness to him mounted to her head like a strong
drink. Powerless to answer in words, she merely pressed
his hand.

At home she found Sasha. The girl usually came
to Nilovna on the days when the mother had visited
Pavel.

"Well, how is he?"

" He's well."

" Did you hand him the note ? "

" Of course ! I stuck it into his hands very cleverly."

"Did he read it?"

" On the spot ? How could he ? "

" Oh, yes ; I forgot ! Let us wait another week, one
week longer. Do you think he'll agree to it ? "

" I don't know — I think he will," the mother delib-
erated. "Why shouldn't he if he can do so without
danger ? "

Sasha shook her head.

" Do you know what the sick man is allowed to eat ?
He's asked for some food."

" Anything at all. I'll get him something at once."
The mother walked into the kitchen, slowly followed by
Sasha.

"Can I help you?"

" Thank you ! Why should you? "

The mother bent at the oven to get a pot. The girl
said in a low voice :

349

MOTHBR

"Wait!"

Her face paled, her eyes opened sadly and her quiv-
ering lips whispered hotly with an effort:

" I want to beg you — I know he will not agree — try to
persuade him. He's needed. Tell him he's essential,
absolutely necessary for the cause — tell him I fear
he'll get sick. You see the date of the trial hasn't been
set yet, and six months have already passed — I beg of
you!"

It was apparent that she spoke with difficulty. She
stood up straight, in a tense attitude, and looked aside.
Her voice sounded uneven, like the snapping of a taut
string. Her eyelids drooping wearily, she bit her lips,
and the fingers of her compressed hand cracked.

The mother was ruffled by her outburst ; but she under-
stood it, and a sad emotion took possession of her. Softly
embracing Sasha, she answered :

" My dear, he will never listen to anybody except
himself — ^never ! "

For a short while they were both silent in a close em-
brace. Then Sasha carefully removed the mother's hands
from her shoulders.

" Yes, you're right," she said in a tremble. " It's all
stupidity and nerves. One gets so tired." And, sud-
denly growing serious, she concluded : " Anyway, let's
give the sick man something to eat."

In an instant she was sitting at Ivan's bed, kindly and
solicitously inquiring, " Does your head ache badly ? "

" Not very. Only everything is muddled up, and I'm
weak," answered Ivan in embarrassment. He pulled the
blanket up to his chin, and screwed up his eyes as if
dazzled by too brilliant a light. Noticing that she embar-
rassed him by her presence and that he could not make
up his mind to eat, Sasha rose and walked away. Then

350

MOTHMR

Ivan sat up in bed and looked at the door through which
she had left.

" Be-au-tiful ! " he murmured.

His eyes were bright and merry; his teeth fine and
compact; his young voice was not yet steady as an
adult's.

" How old are you?" the mother asked thoughtfully.

" Seventeen years."

" Where are your parents ? "

" In the village. I've been here since I was ten years
old. I got through school and came here. And what is
your name, comrade ? "

This word, when applied to her, always brought a
smile to the mother's face and touched her.

" Why do you want to know ? "

The youth, after an embarrassed pause, explained :

"•You see, a student of our circle, that is, a fellow
who used to read to us, told us about Pavel's mother —
a workingman, you know — ^and about the first of May
demonstration."

She nodded her head and pricked up her ears.

" He was the first one who openly displayed the ban-
ner of our party," the youth declared with pride — a pride
which found a response in the mother's heart.

" I wasn't present ; we were then thinking of making
our own demonstration here in the city, but it fizzled out ;
we were too few of us then. But this year we will —
you'll see ! "

He choked from agitation, having a foretaste of the
future event. Then waving his spoon in the air, he
continued : ^

" So Vlasova — ^the mother, as I was telling you — she,
too, got into the party after that. They say she's a won-
der of an old woman."

351

MOTHMR

The mother smiled broadly. It was pleasant for her
to hear the boy's enthusiastic praise — ^pleasant, yet embar-
rassing. She even had to restrain herself from telling
him that she was Vlasova, and she thought sadly, in deri-
sion of herself : " Oh, you old fool ! "

" Eat more ! Get well sooner for the sake of the
cause ! " She burst out all of a sudden, in agitation,
bending toward him : " It awaits powerful young hands,
clean hearts, honest minds. It lives by these forces!
With them it holds aloof everything evil, everything
mean ! "

The door opened, admitting a cold, damp, autumn
draught. Sofya entered, bold, a smile on her face, red-
dened by the cold.

" Upon my word, the spies are as attentive to me as
a bridegroom to a rich bride! I must leave this place.
Well, how are you, Vanya? All right? How's Pavel,
Nilovna ? What ! is Sasha here ? "

Lighting a cigarette, she showered questions without
waiting for answers, caressing the mother and the youth
with merry glances of her gray eyes. The mother looked
at her and smiled inwardly. " What good people I'm
among ! " she thought. She bent over Ivan again and
gave him back his kindness twofold :

" Get well ! Now I must give you wine." She rose
and walked into the dining room, where Sofya was say-
ing to Sasha :

" She has three hundred copies prepared already.
She'll kill herself working so hard. There's heroism for
you ! Unseen, unnoticed, it iinds its reward and its praise
in itself. Do you kngw, Sasha, it's the greatest happiness
to live among such people, to be their comrade, to work
with them?"

" Yes," answered the girl softly.
352

MOTHER

In the evening at tea Sofya said to the mother :

" Nilovna, you have to go to the village again."

"Well, what of it? When?"

" It would be good if you could go to-morrow. Can
you?"

" Yes."

" Ride there," advised Nikolay. " Hire post horses,
and please take a different route from before — across
the district of Nikolsk." Nikolay's somber expression
was alarming.

" The way by Nikolsk is long, and it's expensive if
you hire horses."

" You see, I'm against this expedition in general. It's
already begun to be unquiet there — some arrests have
been made, a teacher was taken. Rybin escaped, that's
certain. But we must be more careful. We ought to
have waited a little while still."

" That can't be avoided," said Nilovna.

Sofya, tapping her fingers on the table, remarked :

" It's important for us to keep spreading literature all
the time. You're not afraid to go, are you, Nilovna ? "

The mother felt offended. " When have I ever been
afraid? I was without fear even the first time. And
now all of a sudden — " She drooped her head. Each
time she was asked whether she was afraid, whether the
thing was convenient for her, whether she could do this
or that — she detected an appeal to her which placed her
apart from the comrades, who seemed to behave differ-
ently toward her than toward one another. Moreover,
when fuller days came, although at first disquieted by the
commotion; by the rapidity of events, she soon grew
Accustomed to the bustle and responded, as it were, to
the jolts she received from her impressions. She became
filled with a zealous greed for work. This was her condi-

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MOTHMR

tion to-day ; and, therefore, Sofya's question was all the
more displeasing to her.

" There's no use for you to ask me whether or not
I'm afraid and various other things," she sighed. " I've
nothing to be afraid of. Those people are afraid who
have something. What have I ? Only a son. I used to
be afraid for him, and I used to fear torture for his sake.
And if there is no torture — well, then ? "

" Are you offended ? " exclaimed Sofya.

" No. Only you don't ask each other whether you're
afraid."

Nikolay removed his glasses, adjusted them to his
nose again, and looked fixedly at his sister's face. The
embarrassed silence that followed disturbed the mother.
She rose guiltily from her seat, wishing to say something
to them, but Sofya stroked her hand, and said quietly :

" Forgive me ! I won't do it any more."

The mother had to laugh, and in a few minutes the
three were speaking busily and amicably about the trip
to the village.

354

CHAPTER X

'HE next day, early in the morning, the
mother was seated in the post chaise, jolt-
ing along the road washed by the autumn
rain. A damp wind blew on her face, the
mud splashed, and the coachman on the
box, half-turned toward her, complained in a meditative
snuffle:

" I say to him — ^my brother, that is — let's go halves.
We began to divide " — he suddenly whipped the left
horse and shouted angrily : " Well, well, play, your
mother is a witch."

The stout autumn crows strode with a businesslike air
through the bare fields. The wind whistled coldly, and
the birds caught its buffets on their backs. It blew their
feathers apart, and even lifted them off their feet, and,
yielding to its force, they lazily flapped their wings and
flew to a new spot.

" But he cheated me ; I see I have nothing "

The mother listened to the coachman's words as in
a dream. A dumb thought grew in her heart. Memory
brought before her a long series of events through which
she had lived in the last years. On an examination of
each event, she found she had actively participated in it.
Formerly, life used to happen somewhere in the distance,
remote from where she was, uncertain for whom and for
what. Now, many things were accomplished before her

355

MOTHER

eyes, with her help. The result in her was a confused
feeling, compounded of distrust of herself, complacency,
perplexity, and sadness.

The scenery about her seemed to be slowly moving.
Gray clouds floated in the sky, chasing each other heav-
ily ; wet trfees flashed along the sides of the road, swing-
ing their bare tops ; little hills appeared and swam asun-
der. The whole turbid day seemed to be hastening to
meet the sun — to be seeking it.

The drawling voice of the coachman, the sound of the
bells, the humid rustle and whistle of the wind, blended
in a trembling, tortuous stream, which flowed on with a
monotonous force, and roused the wind.

" The rich man feels crowded, even in Paradise.
That's the way it is. Once he begins to oppress, the gov-
ernment authorities are his friends," quoth the coachman,
swaying on his seat.

While unhitching the horses at the station he said to
the mother in a hopeless voice :

"If you gave me only enough for a drink "

She gave him a coin, and tossing it in the palm of his
hand, he informed her in the same hopeless tone :

" I'll take a drink for three coppers, and buy myself
bread for two."

In the afternoon the mother, shaken up by the ride
and chilled, reached the large village of Nikolsk. She
went to a tavern and asked for tea. After placing her
heavy valise under the bench, she sat at a window and
looked out into an open square, covered with yellow, tram-
pled grass, and into the town hall, a long, old building
with an overhanging roof. Swine were straggling about
in the square, and on the steps of the town hall sat a bald,
thin-bearded peasant smoking a pipe. The clouds swam
overhead in dark masses, and piled up, one absorbing the

356

MOTHER

other. It was dark, gloomy, and tedious. Life seemed to
be in hiding.

Suddenly the village sergeant galloped up to the
square, stopped his sorrel at the steps of the town hall,
and waving his whip in the air, shouted to the peasant.
The shouts rattled against the window panes, but the
words were indistinguishable. The peasant rose and
stretched his hand, pointing to something. The sergeant
jumped to the ground, reeled, threw the reins to the
peasant, and seizing the rails with his hands, lifted him-
self heavily up the steps, and disappeared behind the
doors of the town hall.

Quiet reigned again. Only the horse struck the soft
earth with the iron of his shoes.

A girl came into the room. A short yellow braid
lay on her neck, her face was round, and her eyes kind.
She bit her lips with the effort of carrying a ragged-edged
tray, with dishes, in her outstretched hands. She bowed,
nodding her head.

" How do you do, my good girl ? " said the mother
kindly.

" How do you do ? "

Putting the plates and the china dishes on the table,
she announced with animation:

" They've just caught a thief. They're bringing him
here."

" Indeed? What sort of a thief? "

" I don't know."

"What did he do?"

" I don't know. I only heard that they caught him.
The watchman of the town hall ran off for the police
commissioner, and shouted : ' They've caught him.
They're bringing him here.' "

The mother looked through the window. Peasants

35Z

MOTHER

gathered in the square; some walked slowly, some
quickly, while buttoning their overcoats. They stopped
at the steps of the town hall, and all looked to the
left. It was strangely quiet. The girl also went to
the window to see the street, and then silently ran from
the room, banging the door after her. The mother trem-
bled, pushed her valise farther under the bench, and
throwing her shawl over her head, hurried to the door.
She had to restrain a sudden, incomprehensible desire to
run.

When she walked up the steps of the town hall a
sharp cold struck her face and breast. She lost breath,
and her legs stiffened. There, in the middle of the square,
walked Rybin ! His hands were bound behind his back,
and on each side of him a policeman, rhythmically strik-
ing the ground with his cliJb. At the steps stood a crowd
waiting in silence.

Unconscious of the bearing of the thing, the mother's
gaze was riveted on Rybin. He said something; she
heard his voice, but the words did not reach the dark emp-
tiness of her heart.

She recovered her senses, and took a deep breath. A
peasant with a broad light beard was standing at the
steps looking fixedly into her face with his blue eyes.
Coughing and rubbing her throat with her hands, weak
with fear, she asked him with an effort:

"What's the matter?"

" Well, look." The peasant turned away. Another
peasant came up to her side.

" Oh, thief ! How horrible you look ! " shouted a
woman's voice.

The policemen stepped in front of the crowd, which
increased in size. Rybin's voice sounded thick:

" Peasants, I'm not a thief; I don't steal; I don't set
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MOTHER

things on fire. I only fight against falsehood. That's
why they seized me. Have you heard of the true books
in which the truth is written about our peasant life?
Well, it's because of these writings that I suffer. It's I
who distributed them among the people."

The crowd surrounded Rybin more closely. His
voice steadied the mother.

" Did you hear ? " said a peasant in a low voice, nudg-
ing a blue-eyed neighbor, who did not answer but raised
his head and again looked into the mother's face. The
other peasant also looked at her. He was younger than
he of the blue eyes, with a dark, sparse beard, and a lean
freckled face. Then both of them turned away to the side
of the steps.

" They're afraid," the mother involuntarily noted.
Her attention grew keener. From the elevation of the
stoop she clearly saw the dark face of Rybin, distin-
guished the hot gleam of his eyes. She wanted that he,
too, should see her, and raised herself on tiptoe and craned
her neck.

The people looked at him sullenly, distrustfully, and
were silent. Only in the rear of the crowd subdued con-
versation was heard.

" Peasants ! " said Rybin aloud, in a peculiar full voice.
" Believe these papers ! I shall now, perhaps, get death
on account of them. The authorities beat me, they tor-
tured me, they wanted to find out from where I got them,
and they're going to beat me more. For in these writ-
ings the truth is laid down. An honest world and the
truth ought to be dearer to us than bread. That's what
I say."

" Why is he doing this ? " softly exclaimed one of
the peasants near the steps. He of the blue eyes an-
swered :

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MOTHER

" Now it's all the same. He won't escape death, any-
how. And a man can't die twice."

The sergeant suddenly appeared on the steps of the
town hall, roaring in a drunken voice :

" What is this crowd? Who's the fellow speaking?"

Suddenly precipitating himself down the steps, he
seized Rybin by the hair, and pulled his head backward
and forward. " Is it you speaking, you damned scoun-
drel? Is it you?"

The crowd, giving way, still maintained silence. The
mother, in impotent grief, bowed her head; one of the
peasants sighed. Rybin spoke again :

" There ! Look, good people ! "

" Silence ! " and the sergeant struck his face.

Rybin reeled.

" They bind a man's hands and then torment him,
and do with him whatever they please."

" Policemen, take him ! Disperse, people ! " The
sergeant, jumping and swinging in front of Rybin, struck
him in his face, breast, and stomach.

" Don't beat him ! " some one shouted dully.

" Why do you beat him ? " another voice upheld the
first.

" Lazy, good-for-nothing beast ! "

" Come ! " said the blue-eyed peasant, motioning with
his head ; and without hastening, the two walked toward
the town hall, accompanied by a kind look from the
mother. She sighed with relief. The sergeant again
ran heavily up the steps, and shaking his fists in men-
ace, bawled from his height vehemently:

" Bring him here, officers, I say ! I say "

" Don't ! " a strong voice resounded in the crowd,
and the mother knew it came from the blue-eyed peasant.
" Boys ! don't permit it 1 They'll take him in there and

360

MOTHl^R

beat him to death, and then they'll say we killed him.
Don't permit it ! "

" Peasants ! " the powerful voice of Rybin roared,
drowning the shouts of the sergeant. " Don't you un-
derstand your life ? Don't you understand how they rob
you — Jiow they cheat you — how they drink your blood?
You keep everything up; everything rests on you; you
are all the power that is at the bottom of everything on
earth — its whole power. And what rights have you?
You have the right to starve — it's your only right 1 "

" He's speaking the truth, I tell you ! "

Some men shouted :

" Call the commissioner of police ! Where is the
commissioner of police ? "

" The sergeant has ridden away for him ! "

" It's not our business to call the authorities ! "

The noise increased as the crowd grew louder and
louder.

" Speak ! We won't let them beat you ! "

" Officers, untie his hands ! "

" No, brothers ; that's not necessary ! "

"Untie him!"

" Look out you don't do something you'll be sorry
for!"

" I am sorry for my hands ! " Rybin said evenly and
resonantly, making himself heard above all the other
voices. " I'll not escape, peasants. I cannot hide from
my truth ; it lives inside of me ! "

Several men walked away from the crowd, formed
different circles, and with earnest faces and shaking their
heads carried on conversations. Some smiled. More
and more people came running up — excited, bearing
marks of having dressed quickly. They seethed like
black foam about Rybin, and he rocked to and fro in

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MOTHER

their midst. Raising his hands over his head and shaking
them, he called into the crowd, which responded now by
loud shouts, now by silent, greedy attention, to the unfa-
miliar, daring words :

" Thank you, good people ! Thank you ! I stood
up for you, for your lives 1 " He wiped his beard and
again raised his blood-covered hand. " There's my
blood! It flows for the sake of truth! "

The mother, without considering, walked down the
steps, but immediately returned, since on the ground she
couldn't see Mikhail, hidden by the close-packed crowd.
Something indistinctly joyous trembled in her bosom and
warmed it.

" Peasants ! Keep your eyes open for those writings ;
read them. Don't believe the authorities and the priests
when they tell you those people who carry truth to us are
godless rioters. The truth travels over the earth se-
cretly ; it seeks a nest among the people. To the author-
ities it's like a knife in the fire. They cannot accept it.
It will cut them and burn them. Truth is your good
friend and a sworn enemy of the authorities — that's why
it hides itself."

" That's so ; he's speaking the gospel ! " shouted the
blue-eyed peasant.

" Ah, brother ! You will perish — and soon, too I "

"Who betrayed you?"

" The priest ! " said one of the police.

Two peasants gave vent to hard oaths,

" Look out, boys ! " a somewhat subdued cry was
heard in warning.

The commissioner of police walked into the crowd—
a tall, compact man, with a round, red face. His cap was
cocked to one side ; his mustache with one end turned up
the other drooping made his face seem crooked, and it

362

MOTHER

was disfigured by a dull, dead grin. His left hand held
a saber, his right waved broadly in the air. His heavy,
firm tramp was audible. The crowd gave way before
him. Something sullen and crushed appeared in their
faces, and the noise died away as if it had sunk into
the ground.

" What's the trouble ? " asked the police commis-
sioner, stopping in front of Rybin and measuring him
with his eyes. " Why are his hands not bound ? Officers,
why ? Bind them ! " His voice was high and resonant,
but colorless.

" They were tied, but the people unbound them," an-
swered one of the policemen.

"The people! What people?" The police commis-
sioner looked at the crowd standing in a half-circle before
him. In the same monotonous, blank voice, neither ele-
vating nor lowering it, he continued : " Who are the
people ? "

With a back stroke he thrust the handle of his saber
against the breast of the blue-eyed peasant.

"Are you the people, Chumakov? Well, who else?
You, Mishin ? " and he pulled somebody's beard with his
right hand.

" Disperse, you curs ! "

Neither his voice nor face displayed the least agitation
or threat. He spoke mechanically, with a dead calm, and
with even movements of his strong, long hands, pushed
the people back. The semicircle before him widened.
Heads drooped, faces were turned aside.

" Well," he addressed the policeman, " what's the
matter with you ? Bind him ! " He uttered a cynical
oath and again looked at Rybin, and said nonchalantly:
" Your hands behind your back, you ! "

"I don't want my hands to be bound," said Rybin.
84 363

MOTHER

" I'm not going to run away, and I'm not fighting. Why
should my hands be bound ? "

"What?" exclaimed the police commissioner, strid-
ing up to him.

"It's enough that you torture the people, you
beasts ! " continued Rybin in an elevated voice. " The
red day will soon come for you, too. You'll be paid back
for everything."

The police commissioner stood before him, his mus-
tached upper lip twitching. Then he drew back a step,
and with a whistling voice sang out in surprise :

" Urn ! you damned scoundrel 1 Wha-at ? What do
you mean by your words ? People, you say ? A-a "

Suddenly he dealt Rybin a quick, sharp blow in the
face.

" You won't kill the truth with your fist ! " shouted
Rybin, drawing on him. " And you have no right to
beat me, you dog 1 "

" I won't dare, I suppose ? " the police commissioner
drawled.

Again he waved his hand, aiming at Rybin's head;
Rybin ducked; the blow missed, and the police commis-
sioner almost toppled over. Some one in the crowd
gave a jeering snort, and the angry shout of Mikhail was
heard :

" Don't you dare to beat me, I say, you infernal devil!
I'm no weaker than you I Look out 1 "

The police commissioner looked around. The people
shut down on him in a narrower circle, advancing sul-
lenly.

" Nikita ! " the police commissioner called out, look-
ing around. " Nikita, hey ! " A squat peasant in a short
fur overcoat emerged from the crowd. He looked on
the ground, with his large disheveled head drooping.

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MOTHER

" Nikita," the police commissioner said deliberately,
twirling his mustache, " give him a box on the ear — a
good one ! "

The peasant stepped forward, stopped in front of
Rybin and raised his hand. Staring him straight in the
face, Rybin stammered out heavily :

" Now look, people, how the beasts choke you with
your own hands! Look! Look! Think! Why does
he want to beat me — why ? I ask."

The peasant raised his hand and lazily struck Mi-
khail's face.

"Ah, Nikita! don't forget God!" subdued shouts
came from the crowd.

" Strike, I say ! " shouted the police commissioner,
pushing the peasant on the back of his neck.

The peasant stepped aside, and inclining his head,
said sullenly:

" I won't do it again."

" What ? " The face of the police commissioner quiv-
ered. He stamped his feet, and, cursing, suddenly flung
himself upon Rybin. The blow whizzed through the
air ; Rybin staggered and waved his arms ; with the
second blow the police commissioner felled him to the
ground, and, jumping around with a growl, he began to
kick him on his breast, his side, and his head.

The crowd set up a hostile hum, rocked, and advanced
upon the police commissioner. He noticed it and jumped
away, snatching his saber from its scabbard.

"So that's what you're up to! You're rioting, are
you?"

His voice trembled and broke; it had grown husky.
And he lost his composure along with his voice. He drew
his shoulders up about his head, bent over, and turning
his blank, bright eyes on all sides, he fell back, carefully

36s

MOTHER

feeling the ground behind him with his feet. As he with-
drew he shouted hoarsely in great excitement:

" All right ; take him ! I'm leaving ! But now, do you
know, you cursed dogs, that he is a political criminal;
that he is going against our Czar ; that he stirs up riots-
do you know it? — against the Emperor, the Czar? And
you protect him ; you, too, are rebels. Aha — a "

Without budging, without moving her eyes, the
strength of reason gone from her, the mother stood as
if in a heavy sleep, overwhelmed by fear and pity. The
outraged, sullen, wrathful shouts of the people buzzed
like bees in her head.

" If he has done something wrong, lead him to court."

" And don't beat him ! "

" Forgive him, your Honor ! "

" Now, really, what does it mean ? Without any law
whatever ! "

" Why, is it possible ? If they begin to beat every-
body that way, what'll happen then ? "

" The devils ! Our torturers ! "

The people fell into two groups — ^the one surrounding
the police commissioner shouted and exhorted him; the
other, less numerous, remained about the beaten man,
humming and sullen. Several men lifted him from the
ground. The policemen again wanted to bind his hands.

" Wait a little while, you devils ! " the people shouted.

Rybin wiped the blood from his face and beard and
looked about in silence. His gaze glided by the face of
the mother. She started, stretched herself out to him,
and instinctively waved her hand. He turned away ; but
in a few minutes his eyes again rested on her face. It
seemed to her that he straightened himself and raised his
head, that his blood-covered cheeks quivered.

" Did he recognize me? I wonder if he did? "
366

MOTHMR

She nodded her head to him and started with a sor-
rowful, painful joy. But the next moment she saw that
the blue-eyed peasant was standing near him and also
looking at her. His gaze awakened her to the conscious-
ness of the risk she was running.

" What am I doing? They'll take me, too."

The peasant said something to Rybin, who shook his
head.

" Never mind ! " he exclaimed, his voice tremulous,
but clear and bold. " I'm not alone in the world. They'll
not capture all the truth. In the place where I was the
memory of me will remain. That's it! Even though
they destroy the nest, aren't there more friends and com-
rades there ? "

" He's saying this for me," the mother decided
quickly.

" The people will build other nests for the truth ;
and a day will come when the eagles will fly from them
into freedom. The people will emancipate themselves."

A woman brought a pail of water and, wailing and
groaning, began to wash Rybin's face. Her thin, piteous
voice mixed with Mikhail's words and hindered the
mother from understanding them. A throng of peasants
came up with the police commissioner in front of them.
Some one shouted aloud :

" Come ; I'm going to make an arrest ! Who's next ? "

Then the voice of the police commissioner was heard.
It had changed — ^mortification now evident in its altered
tone.

" I may strike you, but you mayn't strike me. Don't
you dare, you dunce ! "

" Is that so ? And who are you, pray ? A god? "

A confused but subdued clamor drowned Rybin's
voice.

367.

MOTHER

" Don't argue, uncle. You're up against the au-
thorities.

" Don't be angry, your Honor. The man's out of his
wits."

" Keep still, you funny fellow ! "

" Here, they'll soon take you to the city ! "

" There's more law there ! "

The shouts of the crowd sounded pacificatory, en-
treating; they blended into a thick, indistinct babel, in
which there was something hopeless and pitiful. The
policemen led Rybin up the steps of the town hall and
disappeared with him behind the doors. People began to
depart in a hurry. The mother saw the blue-eyed peasant
go across the square and look at her sidewise. Her legs
trembled under her knees. A dismal feeling of impotence
and loneliness gnawed at her heart sickeningly.

" I mustn't go away," she thought. " I mustn't ! " and
holding on to the rails firmly, she waited.

The police commissioner walked up the steps of the
town hall and said in a rebuking voice, which had as-
sumed its former blankness and soullessness :

" You're fools, you damned scoundrels ! You don't
understand a thing, and poke your noses into an affair
like this — a government affair. Cattle! You ought to
thank me, fall on your knees before me for my goodness !
If I were to say so, you would all be put to hard labor."

About a score of peasants stood with bared heads and
listened in silence. It began to grow dusk; the clouds
lowered. The blue-eyed peasant walked up to the steps,
and said with a sigh :

" That's the kind of business we have here ! "

" Ye-es," the mother rejoined quietly.

He looked at her with an open gaze.

" What's your occupation ? " he asked after a pause.
368

MOTHER

" I buy lace from the women, and linen, too."

The peasant slowly stroked his beard. Then looking
up at the town hall he said gloomily and softly :

" You won't find anything of that kind here."

The mother looked down on him, and waited for a
more suitable moment to depart for the tavern. The peas-
ant's face was thoughtful and handsome and his eyes
were sad. Broad-shouldered and tall, he was dressed in
a patched-up coat, in a clean chintz shirt, and reddish
homespun trousers. His feet were stockingless.

The mother for some reason drew a sigh of relief, and
suddenly obeying an impulse from within, yielding to
an instinct that got the better of her reason, she surprised
herself by asking him :

" Can I stay in your house overnight? "

At the question everything in her muscles, her bones,
tightened stiffly. She straightened herself, holding her
breath, and fixed her eyes on the peasant. Pricking
thoughts quickly flashed through her mind : " I'll ruin
everybody — Nikolay Ivanovich, Sonyushka — I'll not see
Pasha for a long time — ^they'll kill him "

Looking on the ground, the peasant answered delib-
erately, folding his coat over his breast :

"Stay overnight? Yes, you can. Why not? Only
my home is very poor ! "

" Never mind ; I'm not used to luxury," the mother
answered uncalculatingly.

" You can stay with me overnight," the peasant re-
peated, measuring her with a searching glance.

It had already grown dark, and in the twilight his
eyes shone cold, his face seemed very pale. The mother
looked around, and as if dropping under distress, she
said in an undertone :

" Then I'll go at once, and you'll take my valise."

369

MOTHER

" All right ! " He shrugged his shoulders, again
folded his coat and said softly:

" There goes the wagon ! "

In a few moments, after the crowd had begun to dis-
perse, Rybin appeared again on the steps of the town
hall. His hands were bound; his head and face were
wrapped up in a gray cloth, and he was pushed into a
waiting wagon.

" Farewell, good people 1 " his voice rang out in the
cold evening twilight. " Search for the truth. Guard it !
Believe the man who will bring you the clean word;
cherish him. Don't spare yourselves in the cause of
truth!"

" Silence, you dog ! " shouted the voice of the police
commissioner. " Policeman, start the horses up, you
fool ! "

" What have you to be sorry for ? What sort of life
have you ? "

The wagon started. Sitting in it with a policeman on
either side, Rybin shouted dully:

" For the sake of what are you perishing — in hunger?
Strive for freedom — it'll give you bread and — truth.
Farewell, good people ! "

The hasty rumble of the wheels, the tramp of the
horses, the shout of the police officer, enveloped his
speech and muffled it.

" It's done ! " said the peasant, shaking his head.
" You wait at the station a little while, and I'll come
soon."

370

CHAPTER XI

^HE mother went to the room in the tavern,
sat herself at the table in front of the sam-
ovar, took a piece of bread in her hand,
looked at it, and slowly put it back on the
plate. She was not hungry ; the feeling in
her breast rose again and flushed her with nausea. She
grew faint and dizzy; the blood was sucked from her
heart. Before her stood the face of the blue-eyed peas-
ant. It was a face that expressed nothing and failed to
arouse confidence. For some reason the mother did not
want to tell herself in so many words that he would
betray her. The suspicion lay deep in her breast — a dead
weight, dull and motionless.

" He scented me ! " she thought idly and faintly.
" He noticed — he guessed." Further than this her
thoughts would not go, and she sank into an oppressive
despondency. The nausea, the spiritless stillness beyond
the window that replaced the noise, disclosed something
huge, but subdued, something frightening, which sharp-
ened her feeling of solitude, her consciousness of power-
lessness, and filled her heart with ashen gloom.
The young girl came in and stopped at the door.
" Shall I bring you an omelette ? "
" No, thank you, I don't want it ; the shouts fright-
ened me."

The girl walked up to the table and began to speak
excitedly in hasty, terror-stricken tones :

371

MOTHER

"How the police commissioner beat him! I stood
near and could see. All his teeth were broken. He spit
out and his teeth fell on the ground. The blood came
thick — ^thick and dark. You couldn't see his eyes at all;
they were swollen up. He's a tar man. The sergeant
is in there in our place drunk, but he keeps on calling
for whisky. They say there was a whole band of them,
and that this bearded man was their elder, the hetman.
Three were captured and one escaped. They seized a
teacher, too ; he was also with them. They don't believe
in God, and they try to persuade others to rob all the
churches. That's the kind of people they are; and
our peasants, some of them pitied him — that fellow
— and others say they should have settled him for
good and all. We have such mean peasants here! Oh,
my ! oh, my ! "

The mother, by giving the girl's disconnected, rapid
talk her fixed attention, tried to stifle her uneasiness, to
dissipate her dismal forebodings. As for the girl, she
must have rejoiced in an auditor. Her words fairly
choked her and she babbled on in lowered voice with
greater and greater animation:

" Papa says it all comes from the poor crop. This is
the second year we've had a bad harvest. The people
are exhausted. That's the reason we have such peasants
springing up now. What a shame ! You ought to hear
them shout and fight at the village assemblies. The
other day when Vosynkov was sold out for arrears he
dealt the starosta (bailiff) a cracking blow on the face.
' There are my arrears for you ! ' he says."

Heavy steps were heard at the door. The mother
rose to her feet with difficulty. The blue-eyed peasant
came in, and taking off his hat asked :

" Where is the baggage ? "
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MOTHER

He lifted the valise lightly, shook it, and said :

" Why, it's empty ! Marya, show the guest the way
to my house," and he walked off without looking around.

"Are you going to stay here overnight?" asked the
girl.

" Yes. I'm after lace ; I buy lace."

"They don't make lace here. They make lace in
Tinkov and in Daryina, but not among us."

" I'm going there to-morrow ; I'm tired."

On paying for the tea she made the girl very happy
by handing her three kopecks. On the road the girl's
feet splashed quickly in the mud.

" If you want to, I'll run over to Daryina, and I'll
tell the women to bring their lace here. That'll save
your going there. It's about eight miles."

" That's not necessary, my dear."

The cold air refreshed the mother as she stepped
along beside the girl. A resolution slowly formulated
itself in her mind — confused, but fraught with a prom-
ise. She wished to hasten its growth, and asked herself
persistently : " How shall I behave ? Suppose I come
straight out with the truth? "

It was dark, damp, and cold. The windows of the
peasants' huts shone dimly with a motionless reddish
light; the cattle lowed drowsily in the stillness, and
short halloos reverberated through the fields. The vil-
lage was clothed in darkness and an oppressive melan-
choly.

" Here ! " said the girl, " you've chosen a poor lodging
for yourself. This peasant is very poor." She opened
the door and shouted briskly into the hut: "Aunt Tat-
yana, a lodger has come! " She ran away, her " Good-
by ! " flying back from the darkness.

The mother stopped at the threshold and peered about
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MOTHER

with her palm above her eyes. The hut was very small,
but its cleanness and neatness caught the eye at once.
From behind the stove a young woman bowed silently
and disappeared. On a table in a corner toward the
front of the room burned a lamp. The master of the hut
sat at the table, tapping his fingers on its edge. He fixed
his glance on the mother's eyes.

" Come in 1 " he said, after a deliberate pause.

" Tatyana, go call Pyotr. Quick ! "

The woman hastened away without looking at her
guest. The mother seated herself on the bench oppo-
site the peasant and looked around — her valise was not
in sight An oppressive stillness filled the hut, broken
only by the scarcely audible sputtering of the lamplight.
The face of the peasant, preoccupied and gloomy, wav-
ered in vague outline before the eyes of the mother, and
for some reason caused her dismal annoyance.

" Well, why doesn't he say something? Quick! "

" Where's my valise ? " Her loud, stern question
coming suddenly was a surprise to herself. The peasant
shrugged his shoulders and thoughtfully gave the in-
definite answer:

" It's safe." He lowered his voice and continued
gloomily : " Just now, in front of the girl, I said on pur-
pose that it was empty. No, it's not empty. It's very
heavily loaded."

"Well, what of it?"

The peasant rose, approached her, bent over her, and
whispered : " Do you know that man ? "

The mother started, but answered firmly :

" I do."

Her laconic reply, as it were, kindled a light within
her which rendered everything outside clear. She sighed
in relief. Shifting her position on the bench, she settled

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herself more firmly on it, while the peasant laughed
broadly.

" I guessed it — when you made the sign— and he, too.
I asked him, whispering in his ear, whether he knows the
woman standing on the steps."

" And what did he say? "

" He ? He says ' there are a great many of us.' Yes
— ' there are a great many of us,' he says."

The peasant looked into the eyes of his guest qtlestion-
ingly, and, smiling again, he continued :

" He's a man of great force, he is brave, he speaks
straight out. They beat him, and he keeps on his own
way."

The peasant's uncertain, weak voice, his unfinished,
but clear face, his open eyes, inspired the mother with
more and more confidence. Instead of alarm and de-
spondency, a sharp, shooting pity for Rybin filled her
bosom. Overwhelmed by her feelings, unable to restrain
herself, she suddenly burst out in bitter malice :

" Robbers, bigots ! " and she broke into sobs.

The peasant walked away from her, sullenly nodding
his head.

" The authorities have hired a whole lot of assistants
to do their dirty work for them. Yes, yes." He turned
abruptly toward the mother again and said softly:
" Here's what I guessed — that you have papers in the
valise. Is that true ? "

" Yes," answered the mother simply, wiping away
her tears. " I was bringing them to him."

He lowered his brows, gathered his beard into his
hand, and looking on the floor was silent for a time.

" The papers reached us, too ; some books, also. We
need them all. They are so true. I can do very little
reading myself, but I have a friend — he can. My wife

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MOTHER

also reads to me." The peasant pondered for a moment.
" Now, then, what are you going to do with them — ^with
the vaHse?"

The mother looked at him.

" I'll leave it to you."

He was not surprised, did not protest, but only said
curtly, " To us," and nodded his head in assent. He let
go of his beard, but continued to comb it with his fingers
as he sat down.

With inexorable, stubborn persistency the mother's
memory held up before her eyes the scene of Rybin's tor-
ture. His image extinguished all thoughts in her mind.
The pain and injury she felt for the man obscured every
other sensation. Forgotten was the valise with the books
and newspapers. She had feelings only for Rybin. Tears
flowed constantly; her face was gloomy; but her voice
did not tremble when she said to her host :

" They rob a man, they choke him, they trample him
in the mud — the accursed ! And when he says, ' What
are you doing, you godless men ? ' they beat and torture
him."

" Power," returned the peasant. " They have great
power."

" From where do they get it ? " exclaimed the mother,
thoroughly aroused. " From us, from the people — ^they
get everything from us."

" Ye-es," drawled the peasant. " It's a wheel." He
bent his head toward the door, listening attentively.
" They're coming," he said softly.

"Who?"

" Our people, I suppose."

His wife entered. A freckled peasant, stooping,
strode into the hut after her. He threw his cap into a
corner, and quickly went up to their host.

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MOTHER

"Well?"

The host nodded in confirmation.

" Stepan," said the wife, standing at the oven, " may-
be our guest wants to eat something."

" No, thank you, my dear."

The freckled peasant moved toward the mother and
said quietly, in a broken voice:

" Now, then, permit me to introduce myself to you.
My name is Pyotr Yegorov Ryabinin, nicknamed Shilo
— ^the Awl. I understand something about your affairs.
I can read and write. I'm no fool, so to speak." He
grasped the hand the mother extended to him, and wring-
ing it, turned to the master of the house.

" There, Stepan, see, Varvara Nikolayevna is a good
lady, true. But in regard to all this, she says it is non-
sense, nothing but dreams. Boys and different students,
she says, muddle the people's mind with absurdities.
However, you saw just now a sober, steady man, as he
ought to be, a peasant, arrested. Now, here is she, an
elderly woman, and as to be seen, not of blue blood.
Don't be offended — what's your station in life ? "

He spoke quickly and distinctly, without taking breath.
His little beard shook nervously, and his dark eyes, which
he screwed up, rapidly scanned the mother's face and fig-
ure. Ragged, crumpled, his hair disheveled, he seemed
just to have come from a fight, in which he had van-
quished his opponent, and still to be flushed with the joy-
of victory. He pleased the mother with his sprightliness
and his simple talk, which at once went straight to the
point. She gave him a kind look as she answered his
question. He once more shook her hand vigorously, and
laughed softly.

" You see, Stepan, it's a clean business, an excellent
business. I told you so. This is the way it is : the peo-

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MOTHMR

pie, so to speak, are beginning to take things into their
own hands. And as to the lady — she won't tell you the
truth; it's harmful to her. I respect her, I must say;
she's a good person, and wishes us well — well, a little
bit, and provided it won't harm her any. But the peo-
ple want to go straight, and they fear no loss and
no harm — you see? — all life is harmful to them; they
have no place to turn to; they have nothing all around
except ' Stop ! ' which is shouted at them from all
sides."

" I see," said Stepan, nodding and immediately add-
ing : " She's uneasy about her baggage."

Pyotr gave the mother a shrewd wink, and again
reassured her :

" Don't be uneasy ; it's all right. Everything will be
all right, mother. Your valise is in my house. Just
now when he told me about you — that you also partici-
pate in this work and that you know that man — I said to
him : ' Take care, Stepan ! In such a serious business
you must keep your mouth shut.' Well, and you, too,
mother, seem to have scented us when we stood near
you. The faces of honest people can be told at once.
Not many of them walk the streets, to speak frankly.
Your valise is in my house." He sat down alongside of
her and looked entreatingly into her eyes. " If you
wish to empty it we'll help you, with pleasure. We need
books."

" She wants to give us everything," remarked Stepan.

" First rate, mother 1 We'll find a place for all of it."
He jumped to his feet, burst into a laugh, and quickly
pacing up and down the room said contentedly : " The
matter is perfectly simple: in one place it snaps, and in
another it is tied up. Very well! And the newspaper,
mother, is a good one, and does its work — ^it peels the

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MOTHER

people's eyes open; it's unpleasant to the masters. I do
carpentry work for a lady about five miles from here —
a good woman, I must admit. She gives me various
books, sometimes very simple books. I read them over
— I might as well fall asleep. In general we're thankful
to her. But I showed her one book and a number of
a newspaper ; she was somewhat offended. ' Drop it,
Pyotr ! ' she said. ' Yes, this,' she says, ' is the work of
senseless youngsters; from such a business your trou-
bles can only increase ; prison and Siberia for this,' she
says."

He grew abruptly silent, reflected for a moment, and
asked : " Tell me, mother, this man — is he a relative of
yours ? "

" A stranger."

Pyotr threw his head back and laughed noiselessly,
very well satisfied with something. To the mother, how-
ever, it seemed the very next instant that, in reference to
Rybin, the word " stranger " was not in place ; it jarred
upon her.

" I'm not a relative of his ; but I've known him for
a long time, and I look up to him as to an elder brother."

She was pained and displeased not to find the word
she wanted, and she could not suppress a quiet groan.
A sad stillness pervaded the hut. Pyotr leaned his head
upon one shoulder; his little beard, narrow and sharp,
stuck out comically on one side, and gave his shadow
swinging on the wall the appearance of a man sticking
out his tongue teasingly. Stepan sat with his elbows on
the table, and beat a tattoo on the boards. His wife
stood at the oven without stirring; the mother felt her
look riveted upon herself and often glanced at the
woman's face — oval, swarthy, with a straight nose, and
a chin cut off short ; her dark and thick eyebrows joined
25 379

MOTHMR

sternly, her eyelids drooped, and from under them her
greenish eyes shone sharply and intently.

" A friend, that is to say," said Pyotr quietly. " He
has character, indeed he has ; he esteems himself highly,
as he ought to; he has put a high price on himself, as
he ought to. There's a man, Tatyana ! You say "

" Is he married ? " Tatyana interposed, and com-
pressed the thin lips of her small mouth.

" He's a widower," answered the mother sadly.

" That's why he's so brave," remarked Tatyana. Her
utterance was low and difficult. "A married man like
him wouldn't go — ^he'd be afraid."

"And I? I'm married and everything, and yet — "
exclaimed Pyotr.

" Enough ! " she said without looking at him and
twisting her lips. " Well, what are you ? You only
talk a whole lot, and on rare occasions you read a book.
It doesn't do people much good for you and Stepan to
whisper to each other on the corners."

" Why, sister, many people hear me," quietly retorted
the peasant, offended. " I act as a sort of yeast here. It
isn't fair in you to speak that way."

Stepan looked at his wife silently and again drooped
his head.

" And why should a peasant marry ? " asked Tatyana.
" He needs a worker, they say. What work ? "

" You hayen't enough ? You want more ? " Stepan
interjected dully.

" But what sense is there in the work we do ? We go
half-hungry from day to day anyhow. Children are
born; there's no time to look after them on account of
the work that doesn't give us bread." She walked up to
the mother, sat down next to her, and spoke on stub-
bornly, no plaint nor mourning in her voice. " I had two

380

MOTHER

children; one, when he was two years old, was boil6d
to death in hot water; the other was born dead — from
this thrice-accursed work. Such a happy life! I say
a peasant has no business to marry. He only binds
his hands. If he were free he would work up to a
system of life needed by everybody. He would come
out directly and openly for the truth. Am I right,
mother ? "

" You are. You're right, my dear. Otherwise we
can't conquer life."

" Have you a husband ? "

" He died. I have a son."

" And where is he ? Does he live with you ? "

" He's in prison." The mother suddenly felt a calm
pride in these words, usually painful to her. " This is
the second time — all because he came to understand
God's truth and sowed it openly without sparing himself.
He's a young man, handsome, intelligent; he planned a
newspaper, and gave Mikhail Ivanovich a start on his
way, although he's only half of Mikhail's age. Now
they're going to try my son for all this, and sentence
him; and he'll escape from Siberia and continue with
his work."

Her pride waxed as she spoke. It created the image
of a hero, and demanded expression in words. The
mother needed an offset — something fine and bright — to
balance the gloomy incident she had witnessed that day,
with its senseless horror and shameless cruelty. In-
stinctively yielding to this demand of a healthy soul, she
reached out for everything she had seen that was pure
and shining and heaped it into one dazzling, cleans-
ing fire.

" Many such people have already been born, more and
more are being born, and they will all stand up for the

381

MOTHER

freedom of the people, for the truth, to the very end of
their lives."

She forgot precaution, and aUhough she did not men-
tion names, she told everything known to her of the
secret work for the emancipation of the people from the
chains of greed. In depicting the personalities she put
all her force into her words, all the abundance of love
awakened in her so late by her rousing experiences. And
she herself became warmly enamored of the images ris-
ing up in her memory, illumined and beautified by her
feeling.

" The common cause advances throughout the world
in all the cities. There's no measuring the power of the
good people. It keeps growing and growing, and it
will grow until the hour of our victory, until the resur-
rection of truth."

Her voice flowed on evenly, the words came to her
readily, and she quickly strung them, like bright, vari-
colored beads, on strong threads of her desire to cleanse
her heart of the blood and filth of that day. She saw that
the three people were as if rooted to the spot where her
speech found them, and that they looked at her without
stirring. She heard the intermittent breathing of the wo-
man sitting by her side, and all this magnified the power
of her faith in what she said, and in what she promised
these people.

" All those who have a hard life, whom want and in-
justice crush — it's the rich and the servitors of the rich
who have overpowered them. The whole people ought
to go out to meet those who perish in the dungeons
for them, and endure mortal torture. Without gain to
themselves they show where the road to happiness for
all people lies. They frankly admit it is a hard road, and
they force no one to follow them. But once youtake your

382

MOTHMR

position by their side you will never leave them. You
will see it is the true, the right road. With such persons
the people may travel. Such persons will not be recon-
ciled to small achievements ; they will not stop until they
will vanquish all deceit, all evil and greed. They will not
fold their hands until the people are welded into one soul,
until the people will say in one voice : ' I am the ruler,
and I myself will make the laws equal for all.' "

She ceased from exhaustion, and looked about. Her
words would not be wasted here, she felt assured. The
silence lasted for a minute, while the peasants regarded
her as if expecting more. Pyotr stood in the middle of
the hut, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes
screwed up, a smile quivering on his freckled face. Stepan
was leaning one hand on the table; with his neck and
entire body forward, he seemed still to be listening.
A shadow on his face gave it more finish. His wife, sit-
ting beside the mother, bent over, her elbows on her knees,
and studied her feet.

" That's how it is," whispered Pyotr, and carefully sat
on the bench, shaking his head.

Stepan slowly straightened himself, looked at his wife,
and threw his hands in the air, as if grasping for some-
thing.

" If a man takes up this work," he began thought-
fully in a moderated voice, "then his entire soul is
needed."

Pyotr timidly assented:

" Yes, he mustn't look back."

" The work has spread very widely," continued Ste-
pan.

" Over the whole earth," added Pyotr.

They both spoke like men walking In darkness, grop-
ing for the way with their feet. The mother leaned

383

MOTHER

against the wall, and throwing back her head listened to
their careful utterances. Tatyana arose, looked around,
and sat down again. Her green eyes gleamed dryly as
she looked into the peasants' faces with dissatisfaction
and contempt.

" It seems you've been through a lot of misery," she
said, suddenly turning to the mother.

" I have."

" You speak well. You draw — you draw the heart
after your talk. It makes me think, it makes me think,
' God ! If I could only take a peep at such people and at
life through a chink ! ' How does one live ? What life
has one ? The life of sheep. Here am I ; I can read and
write; I read books, I think a whole lot. Sometimes I
don't even sleep the entire night because I think. And
what sense is there in it? If I don't think, my existence
is a purposeless existence; and if I do, it is also purpose-
less. And everything seems purposeless. There are
the peasants, who work and tremble over a piece of bread
for their homes, and they have nothing. It hurts them,
enrages them ; they drink, fight, and work again — work,
work, work. But what comes of it? Nothing."

She spoke with scorn in her eyes and in her voice,
which was low and even, but at times broke off like a taut
thread overstrained. The peasants were silent, the wind
glided by the window panes, buzzed through the straw of
the roofs, and at times whined softly down the chimney.
A dog barked, and occasional drops of rain pattered on
the window. Suddenly the light flared in the lamp,
dimmed, but in a second sprang up again even and bright.

" I listened to your talk, and I see what people live
for now. It's so strange — I hear you, and I think, ' Why,
I know all this.' And yet, until you said it, I hadn't heard
such things, and I had no such thoughts. Yes."

384

MOTHMR

" I think we ought to take something to eat, and put
out the lamp," said Stepan, somberly and slowly. " Peo-
ple will notice that at the Chumakovs' the light burned
late. It's nothing for us, but it might turn out bad for
the guest."

Tatyana arose and walked to the oven.

" Ye-es," Pyotr said softly, with a smile. " Now,
friend, keep your ears pricked. When the papers appear
among the people "

" I'm not speaking of myself. If they arrest me, it's
no great matter."

The wife came up to the table and asked Stepan to
make room.

He arose and watched her spread the table as he
stood to one side.

" The price of fellows of our kind is a nickel a bun-
dle, a hundred in a bundle," he said with a smile.

The mother suddenly pitied him. He now pleased her
more.

" You don't judge right, host," she said. " A man
mustn't agree to the price put upon him by people from
the outside, who need nothing of him except his blood.
You, knowing yourself within, must put your own esti-
mate on yourself — ^your price, not for your enemies, but
for your friends."

" What friends have we ? " the peasant exclaimed
softly. " Up to the first piece of bread."

" And I say that the people have friends."

"Yes, they have, but not here — that's the trouble,"
Stepan deliberated. •

" Well, then create them here."

Stepan reflected a while. " We'll try."

" Sit down at the table," Tatyana invited her.

At supper, Pyotr, who had been subdued by the talk
385

MOTHSR

of the mother and appeared to be at a loss, began to
speak again with animation:

" Mother, you ought to get out of here as soon as pos-
sible, to escape notice. Go to the next station, not to the
city — hire the post horses."

" Why? I'm going to see her off ! " said Stepan.

" You mustn't. In case anything happens and they
ask you whether she slept in your house — ' She did.'
' When did she go ? ' 'I saw her off.' ' Aha ! You did?
Please come to prison ! ' Do you understand ? And no
one ought to be in a hurry to get into prison ; everybody's
turn will come. ' Even the Czar will die,' as the saying
goes. But the other way : she simply spent the night in
your house, hired horses, and went away. And what of
it? Somebody passing through the village sleeps with
somebody in the village. There's nothing in that."

" Where did you learn to be afraid, Pyotr ? " Tatyana
scoffed.

" A man must know everything, friend ! " Pyotr ex-
claimed, striking his knee — " know how to fear, know
how to be brave. You remember how a policeman lashed
Vaganov for that newspaper ? Now you'll not persuade
Vaganov for any amount of money to take a book in his
hand. Yes ; you believe me, mother, I'm a sharp fellow for
every sort of a trick — everybody knows it. I'm going to
scatter these books and papers for you in the best shape
and form, as much as you please. Of course, the people
here are not educated; they've been intimidated. How-
ever, the times squeeze a man and wide open go his eyes,
' What's the matter ? ' And the book answers him in
a perfectly simple way : ' That's what's the matter-
Think! Unite! Nothing else is left for you to do!'
There are examples of men who can't read or write and
can understand more than the educated ones — especially

386

MOTHER

if the educated ones have their stomachs full. I go about
here everywhere; I see much. Well? It's possible to
live ; but you want brains and a lot of cleverness in order
not to sit down in the cesspool at once. The authorities,
too, smell a rat, as though a cold wind were blowing on
them from the peasants. They see the peasant smiles
very little, and altogether is not very kindly^ disposed and
wants to disaccustom himself to the authorities. The
other day in Smolyakov, a village not far from here, they
came to extort the taxes ; and your peasants got stubborn
and flew into a passion. The police commissioner said
straight out : ' Oh, you damned scoundrels ! why, this is
disobedience to the Czar ! ' There was one little peasant
there, Spivakin, and says he : ' Off with you to the evil
mother with your Czar! What kind of a Czar is he if
he pulls the last shirt off your body ? ' That's how far it
went, mother. Of course, they snatched Spivakin off to
prison. But the word remained, and even the little boys
know it. It lives ! It shouts ! And perhaps in our days
the word is worth more than a man-, , People are stupe-
fied and deadSH^^tythSr absorption in breadwinning.
Yes."

Pyotr did not eat, but kept on talking in a quick
whisper, his dark, roguish eyes gleaming merrily. He
lavishly scattered before the mother innumerable little
observations on the village life — they rolled from him
like copper coins from a full purse.

Stepan several times reminded him : " Why don't you
eat?" Pyotr would then seize a piece of bread and a
spoon and fall to talking and sputtering again like a
goldfinch. Finally, after the meal, he jumped to his feet
and announced :

"Well, it's time for me to go home. Good-by,
mother ! " and he shook her hand and nodded his head.

387

MOTHER

" Maybe we shall never see each other again. I must
say to you that all this is very good — to meet you and
hear your speeches — very good! Is there anything in
your valise beside the printed matter? A shawl? Ex-
cellent! A shawl, remember, Stepan. He'll bring you
the valise at once. Come, Stepan. Good-by. I wish
everything good to you."

After he had gone the crawling sound of the roaches
became audible in the hut, the blowing of the wind over
the roof and its knocking against the door in the chim-
ney. A fine rain dripped monotonously on the window.
Tatyana prepared a bed for the mother on the bench
with clothing brought from the oven and the storeroom.

" A lively man ! " remarked the mother.

The hostess looked at her sidewise.

" A light fellow," she answered. " He rattles on and
rattles on; you can't but hear the rattling at a great
distance."

" And how is your husband ? " asked the mother.

" So so. A good peasant ; he doesn't drink ; we live
peacefully. So so. Only he has a weak character." She
straightened herself, and after a pause asked:

" Why, what is it that's wanted nowadays ? What's
wanted is that the people should be stirred up to revolt.
Of course ! Everybody thinks about it, but privately, for
himself. And what's necessary is that he should speak out
aloud. Some one person must be the first to decide to
do it." She sat down on the bench and suddenly asked :
" Tell me, do young ladies also occupy themselves with
this? Do they go about with the workingmen and read?
Aren't they squeamish and afraid ? " She listened atten-
tively to the mother's reply and fetched a deep sigh;
then drooping her eyelids and inclining her head, she
said : " In one book I read the words ' senseless life.' I

388

MOTHMR

understood them very well at once. I kno\7 such a life.
Thoughts there are, but they're not connected, and they
stray like stupid sheep without a shepherd. They stray
and stray, with no one to bring them together. There's
no understanding in people of what must be done. That's
what a senseless life is. I'd like to run away from it
without even looking around — such a severe pang one
suffers when one understands something ! "

The mother perceived the pang in the dry gleam of
the woman's green eyes, in her wizened face, in her
voice. She wanted to pet and soothe her.

" You understand, my dear, what to do "

Tatyana interrupted her softly:

" A person must be able — The bed's ready for you.
Lie down and sleep."

She went over to the oven and remained standing
there erect, in silence, sternly centered in herself. The
mother lay down without undressing. She began to feel
the weariness in her bones and groaned softly. Tatyana
walked up to the table, extinguished the lamp, and when
darkness descended on the hut she resumed speech in
her low, even voice, which seemed to erase something
from the flat face of the oppressive darkness.

" You do not pray ? I, too, think there is no God,
there are no miracles. All these things were contrived to
frighten us, to make us stupid."

The mother turned about on the bench uneasily; the
dense darkness looked straight at her from the window,
and the scarcely audible crawling of the roaches persist-
ently disturbed the quiet. She began to speak almost in
a whisper and fearfully:

" In regard to God, I don't know ; but I do believe in
Christ, in the Little Father. I believe in his words,
' Love thy neighbor as thyself.' Yes, I believe in them."

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MOTHMR

And suddenly she asked in perplexity : " But if there is
a God, why did He withdraw his good power from us?
Why did He allow the division of people into two worlds?
Why, if He is merciful, does He permit human torture —
the mockery of one man by another, all kinds of evil and
beastliness ? "

Tatyana was silent. In the darkness the mother saw
the faint outline of her straight figure — gray on the black
background. She stood motionless. The mother closed
her eyes in anguish. Then the groaning, cold voice sul-
lenly broke in upon the stillness again :

" The death of my children I will never forgive,
neither God nor man — I will never forgive — never ! "

Nilovna uneasily rose from her bed ; her heart under-
stood the mightiness of the pain that evoked such words.

" You are young ; you will still have children," she
said kindly.

The woman did not answer immediately. Then she
whispered :

" No, no. I'm spoiled. The doctor says I'll never
be able to have a child again."

A mouse ran across the floor, something cracked — a
flash of sound flaring up in the noiselessness. The autumn
rain again rustled on the thatch like light thin fingers
running over the roof. Large drops of water dismally
fell to the ground, marking the slow course of the autumn
night. Hollow steps on the street, then on the porch,
awoke the mother from a heavy slumber. The door
opened carefully.

" Tatyana ! " came the low call. " Are you in bed
already ? "

" No."

" Is she asleep ? "

" It seems she is."

390

MOTHER

A light flared up, trembled, and sank into the dark-
ness.

The peasant walked over to the mother's bed, adjusted
the sheepskin over her, and wrapped up her feet. The
attention touched the mother in its simplicity. She closed
her eyes again and smiled. Stepan undressed in silence,
crept up to the loft, and all became quiet.

391

CHAPTER XII

' HE mother lay motionless, with ears strained
in the drowsy stillness, and before her in
the darkness wavered Rybin's face covered
with blood. In the loft a dry whisper could
be heard.

" You see what sort of people go into this work ? Even
elderly people who have drunk the cup of misery to the
bottom, who have worked, and for whom it is time to
rest. And there they are ! But you are young, sensible !
Ah, Stepanl"

The thick, moist voice of the peasant responded :
" Such an affair — you mustn't take it up without
thinking over it. Just wait a little while ! "

" I've heard you say so before." The sounds dropped,
land rose again. The voice of Stepan rang out:

" You must do it this way — ^at first you must take each
peasant aside and speak to him by himself — for instance,
to Makov Alesha, a lively man — can read and write — was
wronged by the police; Shorin Sergey, also a sensible
peasant ; Knyazev, an honest, bold man, and that'll do to
begin with. Then we'll get a group together, we look
about us — yes. We must learn how to find her ; and we
ourselves must take a look at the people about whom
she spoke. I'll shoulder my ax and go off to the city
myself, making out I'm going there to earn money by
splitting wood. You must proceed carefully in this mat-
ter. She's right when she says that the price a man has

392

MOTHMR

is according to his own estimate of himself — ^and this is
an affair in which you must set a high value on yourself
when once you take it up. There's that peasant ! See! You
can put him even before God, not to speak of before a
police commissioner. He won't yield. He stands for
his own firmly — up to his knees in it. And Nikita, why
his honor was suddenly pricked — a marvel? No. If the
people will set out in a friendly way to do something
together, they'll draw everybody after them."

" Friendly ! They beat a man in front of your eyes,
and you stand with your mouths wide open."

"You just wait a little while. He ought to thank
God we didn't beat him ourselves, that man. Yes, in-
deed. Sometimes the authorities compel you to beat, and
you do beat. Maybe you weep inside yourself with pity,
but still you beat. People don't dare to decline from
beastliness — ^they'll be killed themselves for it. They
command you, ' Be what I want you to be — a wolf, a
pig' — but to be a man is prohibited. And a bold man
they'll get rid of — send to the next world. No. You
must contrive for many to get bold at once, and for all
to arise suddenly."

He whispered for a long time, now lowering his voice
so that the mother scarcely could hear, and now bursting
forth powerfully. Then the woman would stop him.
" S-sh, you'll wake her."

The mother fell into a heavy dreamless sleep.

Tatyana awakened her in the early twilight, when the
dusk still peered through the window with blank eyes,
and when brazen sounds of the church bell floated and
melted over the village in the gray, cold stillness.

" I have prepared the samovar. Take some tea or
you'll be cold if you go out immediately after getting up."

Stepan, combing his tangled beard, asked the mother
393

MOTHMR

solicitously how to find her in the city. To-day the peas-
ant's face seemed more finished to her. While they drank
tea he remarked, smiling :

" How wonderfully things happen ! "

"What?" asked Tatyana.

" Why, this acquaintance — so simply."

The mother said thoughtfully, but confidently:

"In this affair there's a marvelous simplicity in
everything."

The host and hostess restrained themselves from
demonstrativeness in parting with her ; they were sparing
of words, but lavish in little attentions for her comfort.

Sitting in the post, the mother reflected that this
peasant would begin to work carefully, noiselessly, like
a mole, without cease, and that at his side the discontented
voice of his wife would always sound, and the dry burn-
ing gleam in her green eyes would never die out of her
so long as she cherished the revengeful wolfish anguish
of a mother for lost children.

The mother recalled Rybin — ^his blood, his face, his
burning eyes, his words. Her heart was compressed
again with a bitter feeling of impotence ; and along the
entire road to the city the powerful figure of black-
bearded Mikhail with his torn shirt, his hands bound be-
hind his back, his disheyeled head, clothed in wrath and
faith in his truth, stood out before her on the drab back-
ground of the gray day. And as she regarded the figure,
she thought of the numberless villages timidly pressed to
the ground; of the people, faint-heartedly and secretly
awaiting the coming of truth; and of the thousands of
people who senselessly and silently work their whole life-
time without awaiting the coming of anything.

Life represented itself to her as an unplowed, hilly
field, which mutely awaits the workers and promises a

394

MOTHMR

harvest to free and honest hands : " Fertilize me with
seeds of reason and truth; I will return them to you a
hundredfold."

When from afar she saw the roofs and spires of the
city, a warm joy animated and eased her perturbed, worn
heart. The preoccupied faces of those people flashed up
in her memory who, from day to day, without cease, in
perfect confidence kindle the fire of thought and scatter
the sparks over the whole earth. Her soul was flooded
by the serene desire to give these people her entire force,
and — doubly the love of a mother, awakened and ani-
mated by their thoughts.

At home Nikolay opened the door for the mother.
He was disheveled and held a book in his hand.

"Already?" he exclaimed joyfully. "You've re-
turned very quickly. Well, I'm glad, very glad."

His eyes blinked kindly and briskly behind his glasses.
He quickly helped her off with her wraps, and said with
an aflfectionate smile :

" And here in my place, as you see, there was a
search last night. And I wondered what the reason for
it could possibly be — whether something hadn't happened
to you. But you were not arrested. If they had arrested
you they wouldn't have let me go either."

He led her into the dining room, and continued with
animation : " However, they suggested that I should be
discharged from my position. That doesn't distress me.
I was sick, anyway, of counting the number of horseless
peasants, and ashamed to receive money for it, too; for
the money actually comes from them. It would have
been awkward for me to leave the position of my own
accord. I am under obligations to the comrades in re-
gard to work. And now the matter has found its own
solution. I'm satisfied ! "

26 395

MOTHMR

The mother sat down and looked around. One would
have supposed that some powerful man in a stupid fit of
insolence had knocked the walls of the house from the
outside until everything inside had been jolted down.
The portraits were scattered on the floor ; the wall paper
was torn away and stuck out in tufts; a board was
pulled out of the flooring; a window sill was ripped
away ; the floor by the oven was strewn with ashes. The
mother shook her head at the sight of this familiar
picture.

" They wanted to show that they don't get money for
nothing," remarked Nikolay.

On the table stood a cold samovar, unwashed dishes,
sausages, and cheese on paper, along with plates, crumbs
of bread, books, and coals from the samovar. The
mother smiled. Nikolay also laughed in embarrassment,
following the look of her eyes.

" It was I who didn't waste time in completing the
picture of the upset. But never mind, Nilovna, never
mind! I think they're going to eome again. That's the
reason I didn't pick it all up. Well, how was your tri^? "

The mother started at the question. Rybin arose be-
fore her ; she felt guilty at not having told of him imme-
diately. Bending over a chair, she moved up to Nikolay
and began her narrative. She tried to preserve her calm
in order not to omit something as a result of excitement.

" They caught him 1 "

A quiver shot across Nikolay's face.

"They did? How?"

The mother stopped his questions with a gesture of
her hand, and continued as if she were sitting before the
very face of justice and bringing in a complaint regard-
ing the torture of a man. Nikolay threw himself back in
his chair, grew pale, and listened, biting his lips. He

396

MOTHER

slowly removed his glasses, put them on the table, and
ran his hand over his face as if wiping away invisible
cobwebs. The mother had never seen him wear so aus-
tere an expression.

When she concluded he arose, and for a minute paced
the floor in silence, his fists thrust deep into his pockets.
Conquering his agitation ae looked almost calmly with a
hard gleam in his eyes into the face of the mother, which
was covered with silent tears.

" Nilovna, we mustn't waste time ! Let us try, dear
comrade, to take ourselves in hand." Then he remarked
through his teeth :

" He must be a remarkable fellow — such nobility !
It'll be hard for him in prison. Men like him feel
unhappy there." Stepping in front of the mother he
exclaimed in a ringing voice : " Of course, all the com-
missioners and sergeants are nothings. They are sticks
in the hands of a clever villain, a trainer of animals.
But I would kill an animal for allowing itself to be
turned into a brute ! " He restrained his excitement,
which, however, made itself felt to the mother's per-
ceptions. Again he strode through the room, and spoke
in wrath : " See what horror ! A gang of stupid peo-
ple, protesting their pernicious power over the people,
beat, stifle, oppress everybody. Savagery grows apace;
cruelty becomes the law of life. A whole nation is de-
praved. Think of it! One part beats and turns brute;
from immunity to punishment, sickens itself with a vo-
luptuous greed of torture — that disgusting disease of
slaves licensed to display all the power of slavish feelings
and cattle habits. Others are poisoned with the desire
for vengeance. Still others, beaten down to stupidity,
become dumb and blind. They deprave the nation, the
whole nation ! " He stopped, leaning his elbows against

397.

MOTHER

the doorpost. He clasped his head in both hands, and
was silent, his teeth set.

" You involuntarily turn a beast yourself in this
beastly life!"

Smiling sadly, he walked up to her, and bending
over her asked, pressing her hand : " Where is your
valise ? "

" In the kitchen."

" A spy is standing at our gate. We won't be able
to get such a big mass of papers out of the way un-
jioticed. There's no place to hide them in and I think
they'll come again to-night. I don't want you to be
arrested. So, however sorry we may be for the lost
labor, let's burn the papers."

"What?"

" Everything in the valise ! "

She finally, understood ; and though sad, her pride in
her success brought a complacent smile to her face.

" There's nothing in it — no leaflets." With gradu-
ally increasing animation she told how she had placed
them in the hands of sympathetic peasants after Rybin's
departure. Nikolay listened, at first with an uneasy
frown, then in surprise, and finally exclaimed, interrupt-
ing her story:

" Say, that's capital ! Nilovna, do you know — " He
stammered, embarrassed, and pressing her hand, ex-
claimed quietly: "You touch me so by your faith in
people, by your faith in the cause of their emancipation!
You have such a good soul! I simply love you as I
didn't love my own mother ! "

Embracing his neck, she burst into happy sobs, and
pressed his head to her lips.

" Maybe," he muttered, agitated and embarrassed by
the newness of his feeling, " maybe I'm speaking non-
398

MOTHMR

sense; but, upon my honest word, you are a beautiful
person, Nilovna — yes ! "

" My darling, I love you, too ; and I love you all with
my whole soul, every drop of my blood ! " she said, chok-
ing with a wave of hot joy.

The two voices blended into one throbbing speech,
subdued and pulsating with the great feeling that was
seizing the people.

" Such a large, soft power is in you ; it draws the
heart toward you imperceptibly. How brightly you
describe people ! How well you see them ! "

" I see your life ; I understand it, my dear ! "

" One loves you. And it's such a marvelous thing to
love a person — it's so good, you know ! "

" It is you, you who raise the people from the dead
to life again ; you ! " the mother whispered hotly, strok-
ing his head. " My dear, I think I see there's much
work for you, much patience needed. Your power must
not be wasted. It's so necessary for life. Listen to what
else happened : thefe was a woman there, the wife of that
man "

Nikolay sat near her, his happy face bent aside in
embarrassment, and stroked his hair. But soon he
turned around again, and looking at the mother, listened
greedily to her simple and clear story.

" A miracle ! Every possibility of your getting into
prison and suddenly — Yes, it's evident that the peas-
ants, too, are beginning to stir. After all, it's natural.
We ought to get special people for the villages. Peo-
ple! We haven't enough — nowhere. Life demands
hundreds of hands ! "

"Now, if Pasha could be free — and Andriusha,"
said the mother softly. Nikolay looked at her and
drooped his head.

399

MOTHMR

" You see, Nilovna, it'll be hard for you to hear ; but
I'll say it, anyway — I know Pavel well; he won't leave
prison. He wants to be tried ; he wants to rise in all his
height. He won't give up a trial, and he needn't either.
He will escape from Siberia."

The mother sighed and answered softly :

" Well, he knows what's best for the cause."

Nikolay quickly jumped to his feet, suddenly seized
with joy again.

"Thank you, Nilovna! I've just lived through a
magnificent moment — ^maybe the best moment of my life.
Thank you! Now, come, let's give each other a good,
strong kiss ! "

They embraced, looking into each other's eyes. And
they gave each other firm, comradely kisses.

"That's good! " he said softly.

The mother unclasped her hands from about his
neck and laughed quietly and happily.

" Um ! " said Nikolay the next minute. " If your
peasant there would hurry up and come here ! You see,
we must be sure to write a leaflet about Rybin for the
village. It won't hurt him once he's come out so boldly,
and it will help the cause. I'll surely do it to-day. Liud-
mila will print it quickly. But then arises the question —
how will it get to the village ? "

"I'll take it!"

" No, thank you ! " Nikolay exclaimed quietly. " I'm
wondering whether Vyesovshchikov won't do for it.
Shall I speak to him ? "

" Yes ; suppose you try and instruct him."

"What'llldothen?"

"Don't worry!"

Nikolay sat down to write, while the mother put the
table in order, from time to time casting a look at him.

400

MOTHER

She saw how his pen trembled in his hand. It traveled
along the paper in straight lines. Sometimes the skin on
his neck quivered; he threw back his head and shut his
eyes. All this moved her.

" Execute them ! " she muttered under her breath.
" Don't pity the villains ! "

"There! It's ready!" he said, rising. "Hide the
paper somewhere on your body. But know that when the
gendarmes come they'll search you, too ! "

" The dogs take them ! " she answered calmly.

In the evening Dr. Ivan Danilovich came.

" What's gotten into the authorities all of a sudden ? "
he said, running about the room. " There were seven
searches last night. Where's the patient ? "

" He left yesterday. To-day, you see, Saturday, he
reads to working people. He couldn't bring it over him-
self to omit the reading."

"That's stupid — to sit at readings with a fractured
skull!"

" I tried to prove it to him, but unsuccessfully."

" He wanted to do a bit of boasting before the com-
rades," observed the mother. " Look ! I've already shed
my blood ! "

The physician looked at her, made a fierce face, and
said with set teeth:

" Ugh ! ugh ! you bloodthirsty person ! "

"Well, Ivan, you've nothing to do here, and we're
expecting guests. Go away! Nilovna, give him the
paper."

" Another paper ? "

" There, take it and give it to the printer."

" I've taken it; I'll deliver it. Is that all? "

" That's all. There's a spy at the gate."

" I noticed. At my door, too. Good-by ! Good-by,
401

MOTHBR

you fierce woman ! And do you know, friends, a squab-
ble in a cemetery is a fine thing after all! The whole
city's talking about it. It stirs the people up and com-
pels them to think. Your article on that subject was ex-
cellent, and it came in time. I always said that a good
fight is better than a bad peace."

" All right. Go away now ! "

" You're polite ! Let's shake hands, Nilovna. And
that fellow — he certainly behaved stupidly. Do you
know where he lives ? "

Nikolay gave him the address.

" I must go to him to-morrow. He's a fine fellow,
eh?"

"Very!"

" We must keep him alive ; he has good brains. It's
from just such fellows that the real proletarian intellect-
uals ought to grow up — ^men to take our places when we
leave for the region where evidently there are no class
antagonisms. But, after all, who knows ? "

" You've taken to chattering, Ivan."

" I feel happy, that's why. Well, I'm going ! So
you're expecting prison? I hope you get a good rest
there!"

" Thank you, I'm not tired ! "

The mother listened to their conversation. Their so-
licitude in regard to the workingmen- was pleasant to
her; and, as always, the calm activity of these people
which did not forsake them even before the gates of
the prison, astonished her.

After the physician left, Nikolay and the mother con-
versed quietly while awaiting their evening visitors.
Then Nikolay told her at length of his comrades living in
exile; of those who had already escaped and continued
their work under assumed names. The bare walls of the

402

MOTHER

room echoed the low sounds of his voice, as if Hstening
in incredulous amazement to the stories of modest heroes
who disinterestedly devoted all their powers to the great
cause of liberty.

A shadow kindly enveloped the woman, warming her
heart with love for the unseen people, who in her imag-
ination united into one huge person, full of inexhaustible,
manly force. This giant slowly but incessantly strides
over the earth, cleansing it, laying bare before the eyes
of the people the simple and clear truth of life — the
great truth that raises humanity from the dead, wel-
comes all equally, and promises all alike freedom from
greed, from wickedness, and falsehood, the three mon-
sters which enslaved and intimidated the whole world.
The image evoked in the mother's soul a feeling similar
to that with which she used to stand before an ikon.
After she had offered her~Joyrul7'gFafHur~pfayer, the
day had then seemed lighter than the other days of her
life. Now she forgot those days. But the feeling left
by them had broadened, had become brighter and better,
had grown more deeply into her soul. It was more keenly
alive and burned more luminously.

" But the gendarmes aren't coming ! " Nikolay ex-
claimed suddenly, interrupting his story.

The mother looked at him, and after a pause an-
swered in vexation :

" Oh, well, let them go to the dogs ! "

" Of course ! But it's time for you to go to bed, Ni-
lovna. You must be desperately tired. You're wonder-
fully strong, I must say. So much commotion and dis-
turbance, and you live through it all so lightly. Only
your hair is turning gray very quickly. Now go and
rest."

They pressed each other's hand and parted.
403

CHAPTER XIII

'HE mother fell quickly into a calm sleep,
and rose early in the morning, awakened
by a subdued tap at the kitchen door. The
knock was incessant and patiently persist-
ent. It was still dark and quiet, and the
rapping broke in alarmingly on the stillness. Dressing
herself rapidly, she walked out into the kitchen, and
standing at the door asked :
"Who's there?"

" I," answered an unfamiliar voice.
"Who?"

" Open." The quiet word was spoken in entreaty.
The mother lifted the hook, pushed the door with her
foot, and Ignaty entered, saying cheerfully :

" Well, so I'm not mistaken. I'm at the right place."
He was spattered with mud up to his belt. His face
was gray, his eyes fallen.

"We've gotten into trouble in our place," he whis-
pered, locking the door behind him.
" I know it." .

The reply astonished the young man. He blinked and
asked :

"How? Where from?"
She explained in a few rapid words, and asked :
" Did they take the other comrades, too ? "
" They weren't there. They had gone off to be re-
cruited. Five were captured, including Rybin."
He snufHed and said, smiling :
404

MOTHER

" And I was left over. I guess they're looking for
me. Let them look. I'm not going back there again, not
for anything. There are other people there yet, some
seven young men and a girl. Never mind ! They're all
reliable."

" How did you find this place ? " The mother smiled.

The door from the room opened quietly.

" I ? " Seating himself on a bench and looking
around, Ignaty exclaimed : " They crawled up at night,
straight to the tar works. Well, a minute before they
came the forester ran up to us and knocked on the win-
dow. ' Look out, boys,' says he, ' they're coming on
you.' "

He laughed softly, wiped his face with the flap of his
coat, and continued:

"Well, they can't stun Uncle Mikhail even with a
hammer. At once he says to me, ' Ignaty, run away to
the city, quick ! You remember the elderly woman.' And
he himself writes a note. ' There, go ! Good-by, brother.'
He pushed me in the back. I flung out of the hut. I
scrambled along on all fours through the bushes, and I
hear them coming. There must have been a lot of them.
You could hear the rustling on all sides, the devils — ^like
a moose around the tar works. I lay in the bushes. They
passed by me. Then I rose and off I went ; and for two
nights and a whole day I walked without stopping. My
feet'll ache for a week."

He- was evidently satisfied with himself. A smile
shone in his hazel eyes. His full red lips quivered.

" I'll set you up with some tea soon. You wash your-
self while I get the samovar ready."

" I'll give you the note." He raised his leg with dif-
ficulty, and frowning and groaning put his foot on the
bench and began to untie the leg wrappings.

405

MOTHER

" I got frightened. ' Well,' thinks I, ' I'm a goner.' "

Nikolay appeared at the door. Ignaty in embar-
rassment dropped his foot to the floor and wanted to
rise, but staggered and fell heavily on the bench, catching
himself with his hands.

" You sit still ! " exclaimed the mother.

" How do you do, comrade ? " said Nikolay, screw-
ing up his eyes good-naturedly and nodding his head.
" Allow me, I'll help you."

Kneeling on the floor in front of the peasant, he
quickly unwound the dirty, damp wrappings.

" Well ! " the fellow exclaimed quietly, pulling back
his foot and blinking in astonishment. He regarded the
mother, who said, without paying attention to his look:

" His legs ought to be rubbed down with alcohol."

" Of course ! " said Nikolay.

Ignaty snorted in embarrassment. Nikoly found the
note, straightened it out, looked at it, and handed the
gray, crumpled piece of paper to the mother.

" For you."

" Read it."

" ' Mother, don't let the affair go without your at-
tention. Tell the tall lady not to forget to have them
write more for our cause, I beg of you. Good-by, Ry-
bin.' "

"My darling!" said the mother sadly. "They've
already seized him by the throat, and he "

Nikolay slowly dropped his hand holding the note.

"That's magnificent!" he said slowly and respect-
fully. " It both touches and teaches."

Ignaty looked at them, and quietly shook his bared
feet with his dirty hands. The mother, covering her tear-
ful face, walked up to him with a basin of water, sat down
on the floor, and stretched out her hands to his feet. But

406

MOTHnR

he quickly thrust them under the bench, exclaiming in
fright: -

" What are you going to do ? "

" Give me your foot, quick ! "

" I'll bring the alcohol at once," said Nikolay.

The young man shoved his foot still farther under
the bench and mumbled:

" What are you going to do ? It's not proper."

Then the mother silently unbared his other foot. Ig-
naty's round face lengthened in amazement. He looked
around helplessly with his wide-open eyes.

" Why, it's going to tickle me ! "

" You'll be able to bear it," answered the mother, be-
ginning to wash his feet.

Ignaty snorted aloud, and moving his neck awk-
wardly looked down at her, comically drooping his
under lip.

" And do you know," she said tremulously, " that they
beat Mikhail Ivanovich ? "

" What ? " the peasant exclaimed in fright.

" Yes ; he had been beaten when they led him to the
village, and in Nikolsk the sergeant beat him, the police
commissioner beat him in the face and kicked him till he
bled." The mother became silent, overwhelmed by her
recollections.

"They can do it," said the peasant, lowering his
brows sullenly. His shoulders shook. " That is, I fear
them like the devils. And the peasants— didn't the peas-
ants beat him ? "

"One beat him. The police commissioner ordered
him to. All the others were so so— they even took his
part. ' You mustn't beat him ! ' they said."

"Um! Yes, yes! The peasants are beginning to
realize where a man stands, and for what he stands."

407

MOTHER

" There are sensible people there, too."

"Where can't you find sensible people? Necessity!
They're everywhere ; but it's hard to get at them. They
hide themselves in chinks and crevices, and suck their
hearts out each one for himself. Their resolution isn't
strong enough to make them gather into a group."

Nikolay brought a bottle of alcohol, put coals in the
samovar, and walked away silently. Ignaty accompanied
him with a curious look.

"A gentleman?"

" In this business there are no masters ; they're all
comrades ! "

" It's strange to me," said Ignaty with a skeptical but
embarrassed smile.

"What's strange?"

" This : at one end they beat you in the face ; at the
other they wash your feet. Is there a middle of any
kind?"

The door of the room was flung open and Nikolay,
standing on the threshold, said :

" And in the middle stand the people who lick the
hands of those who beat you in the face and suck the
blood of those whose faces are beaten. That's the
middle!"

Ignaty looked at him respectfully, and after a pause
said: "That's it!"

The mother sighed. " Mikhail Ivanovich also always
used to say, ' That's it ! ' like an ax blow."

" Nilovna, you're evidently tired. Permit me — ^I "

The peasant pulled his feet uneasily.

"That'll do;" said the mother, rising. "Well,
Ignaty, now wash yourself."

The young man arose, shifted his feet about, and
stepped firmly on the floor.

408

MOTHMR

"They seem like new feet. Thank you! Many,
many thanks ! "

He drew a wry face, his lips trembled, and his eyes
reddened. After a pause, during which he regarded the
basin of black water, he whispered softly:

" I don't even know how to thank you ! "

Then they sat down to the table to drink tea. And
Ignaty soberly began:

" I was the distributer of literature, a very strong fel-
low at walking. Uncle Mikhail gave me the job. ' Dis-
tribute ! ' says he ; ' and if you get caught you're alone.' "

"Do many people read?" asked Nikolay.

"All who can. Even some of the rich read. Of
course, they don't get it from us. They'd clap us right
into chains if they did ! They understand that this is a
slipknot for them in all ages."

"Why a slipknot?"

" What else ! " exclaimed Ignaty in amazement.
"Why, the peasants are themselves going to take the
land from everyone else. They'll wash it out with their
blood from under the gentry and the rich ; that is to say,
they themselves are going to divide it, and divide it so
that there won't be masters or workingmen anymore.
How then? What's the use of getting into a scrap if
not for that?"

Ignaty even seemed to be offended. He looked at
Nikolay mistrustfully and skeptically. Nikolay smiled.

" Don't get angry," said the mother jokingly.

Nikolay thoughtfully exclaimed :

" How shall we get the leaflets about Rybin's arrest
to the village ? " Ignaty grew attentive.

" I'll speak to Vyesovshchikov to-day."

" Is there a leaflet already? " asked Ignaty.

" Yes."

409

MOTHMR

"Give it to me. I'll take it." Ignaty rubbed his
hands at the suggestion, his eyes flashing. " I know
where and how. Let me."

The mother laughed quietly, without looking at him.

" Why, you're tired and afraid, and you said you'd
never go there again ! "

Ignaty smacked his lips and stroked his curly hair
with his broad palm.

" I'm tired ; I'll rest ; and of course I'm afraid ! " His
manner was businesslike and calm. " They beat a man
until the blood comes, as you yourself say — ^then who
wants to be mutilated? But I'll pull through somehow
at night. Never mind! Give me the leaflets; this eve-
ning I'll get on the go." He was silent, thought a while,
his eyebrows working. " I'll go to the forest ; I'll hide
the literature, and then I'll notify our fellows : ' Go
get it.' That's better. If I myself should distribute them
I might fall into the hands of the police, and it would
be a pity for the leaflets. You must act carefully here.
There are not many such leaflets ! "

" And how about your fear ? " the mother observed
again with a smile. This curly-haired, robust fellow put
her into a good humor by his sincerity, which sounded in
his every word, and shone from his round, determined face.

" Fear is fear, and business is business 1 " he answered
with a grin. " Why are you laughing at me, eh ? You,
too! Why, isn't it natural to be afraid in this matter?
Well, and if it's necessary a man'U go into a fire. Such
an affair, it requires it."

"Ah, you, my child!"

Ignaty, embarrassed, smiled. " Well, there you are-
child ! " he said.

Nikolay began to speak, all the time looking good-
naturedly with screwed-up eyes at the young peasant.

410

MOTHSR

" You're not going there ! "

"Then what'll I do? Where am I to be?" Ignaty
asked uneasily.

" Another fellow will go in place of you. And you'll
tell him in detail what to do and how to do it."

" All right ! " said Ignaty. But his consent was not
given at once, and then only reluctantly.

" And for you we'll obtain a good passport and make
you a forester."

The young fellow quickly threw back his head and
asked uneasily:

" But if the peasants come there for wood, or there
— in general — what'll I do? Bind them? That doesn't
suit me."

The mother laughed, and Nikolay, too. This again
confused and vexed Ignaty.

" Don't be uneasy ! " Nikolay soothed him. " You
won't have to bind peasants. You trust us."

"Well, well," said Ignaty, set at ease, smiling at
Nikolay with confidence and merriness in his eyes. " If
you could get me to the factory. There, they say, the
fellows are mighty smart."

A fire seemed to be ever burning in his broad chest,
unsteady as yet, not confident in its own power. It flashed
brightly in his eyes, forced out from within; but sud-
denly it would nearly expire in fright and flicker behind
the smoke of perplexed alarm and embarrassment.

The mother rose from behind the table, and looking
through the window reflected :

" Ah, life ! Five times in the day you laugh and five
times you weep. AH right. Well, are you through, Ig-
naty? Qo to bed and sleep."

" But I don't want to."

" Go on, go on ! "

27 411

MOTHMR

" You're stern in this place. Thank you for the tea,
for the sugar, for the kindness."

Lying down in the mother's bed he mumbled, scratch-
ing his head:

" Now everything'U smell of tar in your place. Ah,
it's all for nothing all this — plain coddling ! I don't want
to sleep. You're good people, yes. It's more than I can
understand — as if I'd gotten a hundred thousand miles
away from the village — how he hit it off about the mid-
dle— and in the middle are the people who lick the
hands — of those who beat the faces — um, yes."

And suddenly he gave a loud short snore and dropped
off to sleep, with eyebrows raised high and half-open
mouth.

Late at night he sat in a little room of a basement
at a table opposite Vyesovshchikov. He said in a sub-
dued tone, knitting his brows :

" On the middle window, four times."

" Four."

" At first three times like this " — he counted aloud as
he tapped thrice on the table with his forefinger. " Then
waiting a little, once again."

" I understand."

" A red-haired peasant will open the door for you, and
will ask you for the midwife. You'll tell him, ' Yes, from
the boss.' Nothing else. He'll understand your busi-
ness."

They sat with heads bent toward each other, both
robust fellows, conversing in half tones. The mother,
with her arms folded on her bosom, stood at the table
looking at them. All the secret tricks and passwords
compelled her to smile inwardly as she thought, " Mere
children still."

412

MOTHER

A lamp burned on the wall, illuminating a dark spot
of dampness and pictures from journals. On the floor
old pails were lying around, fragments of slate iron. A
large, bright star out in the high darkness shone into the
window. The odor of mildew, paint, and damp earth
filled the room.

Ignaty was dressed in a thick autumn overcoat of
shaggy material. It pleased him; the mother observed
how he stroked it admiringly with the palm of his hand,
how he looked at himself, clumsily turning his powerful
neck. Her bosom beat tenderly with, " My dears, my
children, my own."

" There ! " said Ignaty, rising. " You'll remember,
then ? First you go to Muratov and ask for grandfather."

" I remember."

But Ignaty was still distrustful of Nikolay's memory,
and reiterated all the instructions, words, and signs, and
finally extended his hand to him, saying:

" That's all now. Good-by, comrade. Give my re-
gards to them. I'm alive and strong. The people there
are good — you'll see." He cast a satisfied glance down
at himself, stroked the overcoat, and asked the mother,
"Shall I go?"

" Can you find the way ? "

" Yes. Good-by, then, dear comrades."

He walked off, raising his shoulders high, thrusting
out his chest, with his new hat cocked to one side, and
his hands deep in his pockets in most dignified fashion.
On his forehead and temples his bright, boyish curls
danced gayly.

"There, now, I have work, too," said Vyesovshchikov,
going over to the mother quietly. " I'm bored already —
jumped out of prison — what for ? My only occupation is
hiding — ^and there I was learning. Pavel so pressed your

413

MOTHBR

brains — it was one pure delight. And Andrey, too, pol-
ished us fellows zealously. Well, Nilovna, did you hear
how they decided in regard to the escape? Will they
arrange it? "

" They'll find out day after to-morrow," she repeated,
sighing involuntarily. " One day still — day after to-
morrow."

Laying his heavy hand on her shoulder, and bringing
his face close to hers, Nikolay said animatedly:

" You tell them, the older ones there — they'll listen to
you. Why, it's very easy. You just see for yourself.
There's the wall of the prison near the lamp-post ; oppo-
site is an empty lot, on the left the cemetery, on the right
the streets — ^the city. The lamplighter goes to the lamp-
post ; by day he cleans the lamp ; he puts the ladder against
the wall, climbs up, screws hooks for a rope ladder onto
the top of the wall, lets the rope ladder down into the
prison yard, and off he goes. There inside the walls
they know the time when this will be done, and will ask
the criminals to arrange an uproar, or they'll arrange it
themselves, and those who need it will go up the ladder
over the wall — one, two, it's done. And they calmly pro-
ceed to the city because the chase throws itself first of
all on the vacant lot and the cemetery."

He gesticulated rapidly in front of the mother's face,
drawing his plan, the details of which were clear, simple,
and clever. She had known him as a clumsy fellow, and
it was strange to her to see the pockmarked face with the
high cheek bones, usually so gloomy, now lively and alert.
The narrow gray eyes, formerly harsh and cold, looking
at the world sullenly with malice and distrust, seemed to
be chiseled anew, assuming an oval form and shining with
an even, warm light that convinced and moved the
mother.

414

MOTHMR

" You think of it — ^by day, without fail by day. To
whom would it occur that a prisoner would make up his
mind to escape by day in the eyes of the whole prison ? "

"And they'll shoot him down," the woman said
trembling.

" Who ? There are no soldiers, and the overseers of
the prison use their revolvers to drive nails in."

" Why, it's very simple — all this."

"And you'll see it'll all come out all right. No.
You speak to them. I have everything prepared already
— ^the rope ladder, the screw hooks ; I spoke to my host,
he'll be the lamplighter."

Somebody stirred noisily at the door and coughed, and
iron clanked.

" There he is ! " exclaimed Nikolay.

At the open door a tin bathtub was thrust in, and a
hoarse voice said:

" Get in, you devil."

Then a round, gray, hatless head appeared. It had
protruding eyes and a mustache, and wore a good-natured
expression. Nikolay helped the man in with the tub. A
tall, stooping figure strode through the door. The man
coughed, his shaven cheeks puffing up; he spat out and
greeted hoarsely :

" Good health to you ! "

"There! Ask him!"
. "Me? What about?"

" About the escape."

" Ah, ah ! " said the host, wiping his mustache with
black fingers.

" There, Yakob Vasilyevich! She doesn't believe it's
a simple matter I "

"Hm! she doesn't believe! Not to believe means
not to want to believe. You and I want to, and so we

415

MOTHER

believe." The old man suddenly bent over and coughed
hoarsely, rubbed his breast for a long time, while he
stood in the middle of the room panting for breath and
scanning the mother with wide-open eyes.

" I'm not the one to decide, Nikolay."

" But, mother, you talk with them. Tell them every-
thing is ready. Ah, if I could only see them ! I'd force
them ! " He threw out his hands with a broad gesture
and pressed them together as if embracing something
firmly, and his voice rang with hot feeling that astounded
the mother by its power.

" Hm ! what a fellow you are ! " she thought ; but
said aloud : " It's for Pasha and the comrades to decide."

Nikolay thoughtfully inclined his head.

" Who's this Pasha? " asked the host, seating himself.

" My son."

"What's the family?"

" Vlasov."

He nodded his head, got his tobacco pouch, whipped
out his pipe and filled it with tobacco. He spoke
brokenly :

" I've heard of him. My nephew knows him. He,
too, is in prison — my nephew Yevchenko. Have you
heard of him? And my family is Godun. They'll soon
shut all the young people in prison, and then there'll be
plenty and comfort for us old folks. The gendarme as-
sures me that my nephew will even be sent to Siberia.
They'll exile him — ^the dogs ! "

Lighting his pipe, he turned to Nikolay, spitting fre-
quently on the floor:

"So she doesn't want to? Well, that's her affair!
A person is free to feel as he wants to. Are you tired of
sitting in prison? Go. Are you tired of going? Sit.
They robbed you ? Keep still. They beat you ? Bear it.

416

MOTHSR

They have killed you ? Stay dead. That's certain. And
I'll carry oS Savka ; I'll carry him off ! " His curt, bark-
ing phrases, full of good-natured irony, perplexed the
mother. But his last words aroused envy in her.

While walking along the street in the face of a cold
wind and rain, she thought of Nikolay, " What a man
he's become ! Think of it ! " And remembering Godun,
she almost prayerfully reflected, " It seems I'm not the
only one who lives for the new. It's a big fire if it so
cleanses and burns all who see it." Then she thought of
her son, " If he only agreed ! "

On Sunday, taking leave of Pavel in the waiting room
of the prison, she felt a little lump of paper in her hand.
She started as if it burned her skin, and cast a look of
question and entreaty into her son's face. But she found
no answer there. Pavel's blue eyes smiled with the usual
composed smile familiar to her.

" Good-by ! " she sighed.

The son again put out his hand to her, and a certain
kindness and tenderness for her quivered on his face.
" Good-by, mamma ! "

She waited without letting go of his hand. "Don't
be uneasy — don't be angry," he said.

These words and the stubborn folds between his
brows answered her question. " Well, what do you
mean?" she muttered, drooping her head. "What of
it?" And she quickly walked away without looking at
him, in order not to betray her feelings by the tears in
her eyes and the quiver of her lips. On the road she
thought that the bones of the hand which had pressed her
son's hand ached and grew heavy, as if she had been
struck on the shoulder.

At home, after thrusting the note into Nikolay's hand,
she stood before him, and waited while he smoothed out

MOTHER

the tight little roll. She felt a tremor of hope again; but
Nikolay said:

" Of course, this is what he writes : ' We will not go
away, comrade; we cannot, not one of us. We should
lose respect for ourselves. Take into consideration the
peasant recently arrested. He has merited your solici-
tude ; he deserves that you expend much time and energy
on him. It's very hard for him here — daily collisions
with the authorities. He's already had the twenty-four
hours of the dark cell. They torture him to death. We
all intercede for him. Soothe and be kind to my mother;
tell her ; she'll understand all. Pavel.' "

The mother straightened herself easily, and proudly
tossed her head.

" Well, what is there to tell me ? " she said firmly. " I
understand — they want to go straight at the authorities
again — ' there 1 condemn the truth ! ' "

Nikolay quickly turned aside, took out his handker-
chief, blew his nose aloud, and mumbled : " I've caught
a cold, you see ! " Covering his eyes with his hands,
under the pretext of adjusting his glasses, he paced up
and down the room, and said : " We shouldn't have been
successful anyway."

" Never mind ; let the trial come ^ff ! " said the
mother frowning.

" Here, I've received a letter from a comrade in St.
Petersburg "

"He can escape from Siberia, too, can't he?"

" Of course ! The comrade writes : ' The trial is ap-
pointed for the near future ; the sentence is certain — exile
for everybody ! ' You see, these petty cheats convert their
court into the most trivial comedy. You understand?
Sentence is pronounced in St. Petersburg before the
trial."

418

MOTHER

" Stop ! " the mother said resolutely. " You needn't
comfort me or explain to me. Pasha won't do what isn't
right — he won't torture himself for nothing." She
paused to catch breath. " Nor will he torture others, and
he loves me, yes. You see, he thinks of me. ' Ex-
plain to her,' he writes ; ' soothe her and comfort her,'
eh? "

Her heart beat quickly but boldly, and her head
whirled slightly from excitement.

" Your son's a splendid man ! I respect and love him
very much."

" I tell you what— let's think of something in regard
to Rybin," she suggested.

She wanted to do something forthwith — go some-
where, walk till she dropped from exhaustion, and then
fall asleep, content with the day's work.

" Yes — ^very well ! " said Nikolay, pacing through the
room. " Why not ? We ought to have Sashenka here ! "

" She'll be here soon. She always comes on my vis-
iting day to Pasha."

Thoughtfully drooping his head, biting his lips and
twisting his beard, Nikolay sat on the sofa by the
mother's side.

" I'm sorry my sister isn't here. She ought to occupy
herself with Rybin's case."

" It would be well to arrange it at once, while Pasha
is there. It would be pleasant for him."

The bell rang. They looked at each other.

" That's Sasha," Nikolay whispered.

" How will you tell her? " the mother whispered back.

"Yes— um!— it's hard!"

" I pity her very much."

The bell rang again, not so loud, as if the person on
the other side of the door had also fallen to thinking and

419

MOTHER

hesitated. Nikolay and the mother rose simultaneously,
but at the kitchen door Nikolay turned aside.

" You'd better do it," he sa,id.

"He's not willing?" the girl asked the moment the
mother opened the door.

" No."

" I knew it 1 " Sasha's face paled. She unbuttoned
her coat, fastened two buttons again, then tried to remove
her coat, unsuccessfully, of course. "Dreadful weather
— rain, wind ; it's disgusting ! Is he well ? "

" Yes."

" Well and happy ; always the same, and only this — "
Her tone was disconsolate, and she regarded her hands.

" He writes that Rybin ought to be freed." The
mother kept her eyes turned from the girl.

" Yes ? It seems to me we ought to make use of this
plan."

" I think so, too," said Nikolay, appearing at the
door. " How do you do, Sasha ? "

The girl asked, extending her hand to him :

" What's the question about ? Aren't all agreed that
the plan is practicable? I know they are."

" And who'll organize it ? Everybody's occupied."

" Give it to me," said Sasha, quickly jumping to her
feet. " I have time ! "

" Take it. But you must ask others."

" Very well, I will. I'll go at once."

She began to button up her coat again with sure, thin
fingers.

" You ought to rest a little," the mother advised.

Sasha smiled and answered in a softer voice:

" Don't worry about me. I'm not tired." And
silently pressing their hands, she left once more, cold and
stern.

420

CHAPTER XIV

^HE mother and Nikolay, walking up to the
window, watched the girl pass through the
yard and disappear beyond the gate. Niko-
lay whistled quietly, sat down at the table
and began to write.
" She'll occupy herself with this affair, and it'll be
easier for her," the mother reflected.

" Yes, of course ! " responded Nikolay, and turning
around to the mother with a kind smile on his face,
asked : " And how about you, Nilovna — did this cup of
bitterness escape you? Did you never know the pangs
for a beloved person ? "

" Well ! " exclaimed the mother with a wave of her
hand. "What sort of a pang? The fear they had
whether they won't marry me off to this man or that
man?"

" And you liked no one ? "
She thought a little, and answered :
" I don't recall, my dear ! How can it be that I didn't
like anybody ? I suppose there was somebody I was fond
of, but I don't remember."

She looked at him, and concluded simply, with sad
composure : " My husband beat me a lot ; and everything
that was before him was effaced from my soul."

Nikolay turned back to the table ; the mother walked
out of the room for a minute. On her return Nikolay

421

MOTHER

looked at her kindly and began to speak softly and lov-
ingly. His reminiscences stroked her like a caress.

" And I, you see, was like Sashenka. I loved a girl :
a marvelous being, a wonder, a — guiding star; she was
gentle and bright for me. I met her about twenty years
ago, and from that time on I loved her. And I love her
now, too, to speak the truth. I love her all so— with my
whole soul — gratefully — forever ! "

Standing by his side the mother saw his eyes lighted
from within by a clear, warm light. His hands folded
over the back of the chair, and his head leaning on them,
he looked into the distance; his whole body, lean and
slender, but powerful, seemed to strive upward, like the
stalk of a plant toward the sun.

" Why didn't you marry ? You should have ! "

" Oh, she's been married five years ! "

" And before that — what was the matter? Didn't she
love you ? "

He thought a while, and answered:

" Yes, apparently she loved me ; I'm certain she did.
But, you see, it was always this way: I was in prison,
she was free; I was free, she was in prison or in exile.
That's very much like Sasha's position, really. Finally
they exiled her to Siberia for ten years. I wanted to fol-
low her, but I was ashamed and she was ashamed, and I
remained here. Then she met another man — a comrade
of mine, a very good fellow, and they escaped together.
Now they live abroad. Yes "

Nikolay took off his glasses, wiped them, held them
up to the light and began to wipe them again.

" Ah, you, my dear 1 " the mother exclaimed lovingly,
shaking her head. She was sorry for him; at the same
time something compelled her to smile a warm, motherly
smile. He changed his pose, took the pen in his hand,

422

MOTHMR

and said, punctuating the rhythm of his speed with waves
of his hand:

" Family life always diminishes the energy of a revo-
lutionist. Children must be maintained in security, and
there's the need to work a great deal for one's bread.
The revolutionist ought without cease to develop every
iota of his energy ; he must deepen and broaden it ; but
this demands time. He must always be at the head, be-
cause we — the workingmen — are called by the logic of
history to destroy the old world, to create the new life;
and if we stop, if we yield to exhaustion, or are attracted
by the possibility of a little immediate conquest, it's bad
— it's almost treachery to the cause. No revolutionist
can adhere closely to an individual — walk through life
side by side with another individual — without distort-
ing his faith ; and we must never forget that our aim is
nntJittle rnnqiiests. hut only complete victory ! "
"Jiis voice becarne tirm, his tace paled, and his eyes
kindled with the force that characterized him. The bell
sounded again. It was Liudmila. She wore an overcoat
too light for the season, her cheeks were purple with the
cold. Removing her torn overshoes, she said in a vexed
voice :

" The date of the trial is appointed — in a week ! "

" Really ? " shouted Nikolay from the room.

The mother quickly walked up to him, not under-
standing whether fright or joy agitated her. Liudmila,
keeping step with her, said, with irony in her low voice :

"Yes, really! The assistant prosecuting attorney,
Shostak, just now brought the incriminating acts. In
the court they say, quite openly, that the sentence has
already been fixed. What does it mean ? Do the authori-
ties fear that the judges will deal too mercifully with
the enemies of the government? Having so long and so

423

MOTHER

assiduously kept corrupting their servants, is the govern-
ment still unassured of their readiness to be scoundrels ? "

Liudmila sat on the sofa, rubbing her lean cheeks
with her palms ; her dull eyes burned contemptuous scorn,
and her voice filled with growing wrath.

" You waste your powder for nothing, Liudmila ! "
Nikolay tried to soothe her. " They don't hear you."

" Some day I'll compel them to hear me ! "

The black circles under her eyes trembled and threw
an ominous shadow on her face. She bit her lips.

" You go against me — ^that's your right ; I'm your
enemy. But in defending your power don't corrupt peo-
ple; don't compel me to have instinctive contempt for
them ; don't dare to poison my soul with your cynicism ! "

Nikolay looked at her through his glasses, and screw-
ing up his eyes, shook his head sadly. But she continued
to speak as if those whom she detested stood before her.
The mother listened with strained attention, understand-
ing nothing, and instinctively repeating to herself one
and the same words, " The trial — ^the trial will come off
in a week ! "

She could not picture to herself what it would be
like; how the judges would behave toward Pavel. Her
thoughts muddled her brain, covered her eyes with a
gray mist, and plunged her into something sticky, viscid,
chilling and paining her body. The feeling grew, entered
her blood, took possession of her heart, and weighed
it down heavily, poisoning in it all that was alive and
bold.

Thus, in a cloud of perplexity and despondency under
the load of painful expectations, she lived through one
day, and a second day; but on the third day Sasha ap-
peared and said to Nikolay:

" Everything is ready — to-day, in an hour ! "
424

MOTHMR

" Everything ready ? So soon ? " He was astonished.

"Why shouldn't everything be ready? The only
thing I had to do was to get a hiding place and clothes
for Rybin. All the rest Godun took on himself. Rybin
will have to go through only one ward of the city. Vye-
sovshchikov will meet him on the street, all disguised, of
course. He'll throw an overcoat over him, give him a
hat, and show him the way. I'll wait for him, change
his clothes and lead him off."

" Not bad 1 And who's this Godun ? "

" You've seen him ! You gave talks to the locksmiths
in his place."

" Oh, I remember ! A droll old man."

" He's a soldier who served his time — a. roofer, a man
of little education, but with an inexhaustible fund of
hatred for every kind of violence and for all men of vio-
lence. A bit of a philosopher 1 "

The mother listened in silence to her, and something
indistinct slowly dawned upon her.

" Godun wants to free his nephew — you remember
him? You liked Yevchenko, a blacksmith, quite a dude."
Nikolay nodded his head. " Godun has arranged every-
thing all right. But I'm beginning to doubt his success.
The passages in the prison are used by all the inmates,
and I think when the prisoners see the ladder many will
want to run — " She closed her eyes and was silent for
a while. The mother moved nearer to her. "They'll
hinder one another."

They all three stood before the window, the mother
behind Nikolay and Sasha. Their rapid conversation
roused in her a still stronger sense of uneasiness and
anxiety.

" I'm going there/' the mother said suddenly.

"Why?" asked Sasha.

425

MOTHER

" Don't go, darling ! Maybe you'll get caught. You
mustn't ! " Nikolay advised.

The mother looked at them and softly, but persist-
ently, repeated : " No ; I'm going ! I'm going ! "

They quickly exchanged glances, and Sasha, shrug-
ging her shoulders, said :

" Of course — hope is tenacious ! "

Turning to the mother she took her by the hand,
leaned her head on her shoulder, and said in a new,
simple voice, near to the heart of the mother :

" But I'll tell you after all, mamma, you're waiting in
vain — he won't try to escape ! "

" My dear darling ! " exclaimed the mother, pressing
Sasha to her tremulously. " Take me ; I won't interfere
with you ; I don't believe it is possible — ^to escape ! "

" She'll go," said the girl simply to Nikolay.

" That's your affair ! " he answered, bowing his head.

" We mustn't be together, mamma. You go to the
garden in the lot. From there you can see the wall of
the prison. But suppose they ask you what you are
doing there ? "

Rejoiced, the mother answered confidently :

" I'll think of what to say."

" Don't forget that the overseers of the prison know
you," said Sasha ; " and if they see you there "

" They won't see me ! " the mother laughed softly.

An hour later she was in the lot by the prison. A
sharp wind blew about her, pulled her dress, and beat
against the frozen earth, rocked the old fence of the gar-
den past which the woman walked, and rattled against
the low wall of the prison ; it flung up somebody's shouts
from the court, scattered them in the air, and carried
them up to the sky. There the clouds were racing
quickly, little rifts opening in the blue height.

426

MOTHMR

Behind the mother lay the city ; in front the cemetery ;
to the right, about seventy feet from her, the prison.
Near the cemetery a soldier was leading a horse by a
rein, and another soldier tramped noisily alongside him,
shouted, whistled, and laughed. There was no one else
near the prison. On the impulse of the moment the
mother walked straight up to them. As she came near
she shouted:

" Soldiers ! didn't you see a goat anywhere around
here?"

One of them answered :

" No."

She walked slowly past them, toward the fence of the
cemetery, looking slantwise to the right and the back.
Suddenly she felt her feet tremble and grow heavy, as if
frozen to the ground. From the corner of the prison a
man came along, walking quickly, like a lamplighter. He
was a stooping man, with a little ladder on his shoulder.
The mother, blinking in fright, quickly glanced at the
soldiers ; they were stamping their feet on one spot, and
the horse was running around them. She looked at the
ladder — ^he had already placed it against the wall and
was climbing up without haste. He waved his hand in
the courtyard, quickly let himself down, and disappeared
around the corner. That very second the black head of
Mikhail appeared on the wall, followed by his entire body.
Another head, with a shaggy hat, emerged alongside of
his. Two black lumps rolled to the ground; one disap-
peared around the corner; Mikhail straightened himself
up and looked about.

" Run, run ! " whispered the mother, treading impa-
tiently. Her ears were humming. Loud shouts were
wafted to her. There on the wall appeared a third head.
She clasped her hands in faintness. A light-haired head,
28 427

MOTHER

without a beard, shook as if it wanted to tear itself away,
but it suddenly disappeared behind the wall. The shouts
came louder and louder, more and more boisterous. The
wind scattered the thin trills of the whistles through the
air. Mikhail walked along the wall — ^there! he was al-
ready beyond it, and traversed the open space between the
prison and the houses of the city. It seemed to her as if
he were walking very, very slowly, that he raised his
head to no purpose. " Everyone who sees his face will
remember it forever," and she whispered, " Faster !
faster ! " Behind the wall of the prison something
slammed, the thin sound of broken glass was heard. One
of the soldiers, planting his feet firmly on the ground,
drew the horse to him, and the horse jumped. The other
one, his fist at his mouth, shouted something in the direc-
tion of the prison, and as he shouted he turned his head
sidewise, with his ear cocked.

All attention, the mother turned her head in all direc-
tions, her eyes seeing everything, believing nothing. This
thing which she had pictured as terrible and intricate was
accomplished with extreme simplicity and rapidity, and
the simpleness of the happenings stupefied her. Rybin
was no longer to be seen^ — a tall man in a thin overcoat
was walking there — a girl was running along. Three
wardens jumped out from a corner of the prison; they
ran side by side, stretching out their right hands. One
of the soldiers rushed in front of them; the other ran
around the horse, unsuccessfully trying to vault on the
refractory animal, which kept jumping about. The
whistles incessantly cut the air, their alarming, desperate
shrieks aroused a consciousness of danger in the woman.
Trembling, she walked along the fence of the cemetery,
following the wardens; but they and the soldiers ran
around the other corner of the prison and disappeared.

428

■ ' Run, run ! ' whispered the mother.

MOTHER

They were followed at a run by the assistant overseer of
the prison, whom she knew; his coat was unbuttoned.
From somewhere policemen appeared, and people came
running.

The wind whistled, leaped about as if rejoicing, and
carried the broken, confused shouts to the mother's ears.

" It stands here all the time."

"The ladder?"

" What's the matter with you then ? The devil take
you!"

" Arrest the soldiers ! "

"Policeman!"

Whistles again. This hubbub delighted her and she
strode on more boldly, thinking, " So, it's possible — he
could have done it ! "

But now pain for her son no longer entered her
heart without pride in him also. And only fear for him
weighed and oppressed her to stupefaction as before.

From the corner of the fence opposite her a constable
with a black, curly beard, and two policemen emerged.

" Stop ! " shouted the constable, breathing heavily.
" Did you see — a man — with a beard — didn't he run by
here?"

She pointed to the garden and answered calmly :

" He went that way ! "

" Yegorov, run ! Whistle ! Is it long ago ? "

" Yes — I should say — about a minute ! "

But the whistle drowned her voice. The constable,
without waiting for an answer, precipitated himself in a
gallop along the hillocky ground, waving his hands in
the direction of the garden. After him, with bent head,
and whistling, the policemen darted off.

The mother nodded her head after them, and, satisfied
with herself, went home. When she walked out of the

.429

MOTHER

field into the street a cab crossed her way. Raising her
head she saw in the vehicle a young man with light mus-
tache and a pale, worn face. He, too, regarded her. He
sat slantwise. It must have been due to his position that
his right shoulder was higher than his left.

At home Nikolay met her joyously.

"Alive? How did it go?"

" It seems everything's been successful ! "

And slowly trying to reinstate all the details in her
memory, she began to tell of the escape. Nikolay, too,
was amazed at the success.

" You see, we're lucky ! " said Nikolay, rubbing his
hands. " But how frightened I was on your account
only God knows. You know what, Nilovna, take my
friendly advice : don't be afraid of the trial. The sooner
it's over and done with the sooner Pavel will be free.
Believe me. I've already written to my sister to try to
think what can be done for Pavel. Maybe he'll even
escape on the road. And the trial is approximately like
this." He began to describe to her the session of the
court. She listened, and understood that he was afraid
of something — that he wanted to inspirit her.

" Maybe you think I'll say something to the judges ? "
she suddenly inquired. " That I'll beg them for some-
thing?"

He jumped up, waved his hands at her, and said in
an offended tone :

"What are you talking about? You're insulting
me!"

" Excuse me, please ; excuse me ! I really am afraid
— of what I don't know."

She was silent, letting her eyes wander about the
room.

" Sometimes it seems to me that they'll insult Pasha—
430

MOTHER

scoif at him. ' Ah, you peasant ! ' they'll say. ' You son
of a peasant ! What's this mess you've cooked up ? '

And Pasha, proud as he is, he'll answer them so !

Or Andrey will laugh at them — and all the comrades
there are hot-headed and honest, ^o I can't help think-
ing that something will suddenly happen. One of them
will lose his patience, the others will support him, and the
sentence will be so severe — ^you'll never see them again."

Nikolay was silent, pulling his beard glumly as the
mother continued:

" It's impossible to drive this thought from my head.
The trial is terrible to me. When they'll begin to take
everything apart and weigh it — ^it's awful 1 It's not the
sentence that's terrible, but the trial — I can't express it."
She felt that Nikolay didn't understand her fear ; and his
inability to comprehend kept her from further analysis
of her timidities, which, however, only increased and
broadened during the three following days. Finally, on
the day of the trial, she carried into the hall of the session
a heavy dark load that bent her back and neck.

In the street, acquaintances from the suburbs had
greeted her. She had bowed in silence, rapidly making
her way through the dense crowd in the corridor of the
courthouse. In the hall she was met by relatives of the
defendants, who also spoke to her in undertones. All the
words seemed needless ; she didn't understand them. Yet
all the people were sullen, filled with the same mourn-
ful feeling which infected the mother and weighed her
down.

" Let's sit next to each other," suggested Sizov, going
to a bench.

She sat down obediently, settled her dress, and looked
around. Green and crimson specks, with thin yellow
threads between, slowly swam before her eyes,

431

MOTHMR

" Your son has ruined our Vasya," a woman sitting
beside her said quietly.

" You keep still,- Natalya ! " Sizov chided her angrily.

Nilovna looked at the woman; it was the mother of
Samoylov. Farther along sat her husband — ^bald-headed,
bony-faced, dapper, with a large, bushy, reddish beard
which trembled as he sat looking in front of himself, his
eyes screwed up.

A dull, immobile light entered through the high win-
dows of the hall, outside of which snow glided and fell
lingeringly on the ground. Between the windows hung a
large portrait of the Czar in a massive frame of glaring
gilt. Straight, austere folds of the heavy crimson win-
dow drapery dropped over either side of it. Before the
portrait, across almost the entire breadth of the hall,
stretched the table covered with green cloth. To the
right of the wall, behind the grill, stood two wooden
benches; to the left two rows of crimson armchairs.
Attendants with green collars and yellow buttons on
their abdomens ran noiselessly about the hall. A soft
whisper hummed in the turbid atmosphere, and the odor
was a composite of many odors as in a drug shop. All
this — the colors, the glitter, the sounds and odors —
pressed on the eyes and invaded the breast with each
inhalation. It forced out live sensations, and filled the
desolate heart with motionless, dismal awe.

Suddenly one Of the people said something aloud.
The mother trembled. All arose; she, too, rose, seizing
Sizov's hand.

In the left corner of the hall a high door opened and
an old man emerged, swinging to and fro. On his gray
little face shook white, sparse whiskers; he wore eye-
glasses; the upper lip, which was shaven, sank into his
mouth as by suction; his sharp jawbones and his chin

432

MOTHMR

were supported by the high collar of his uniform ; appar-
ently there was no neck under the collar. He was sup-
ported under the arm from behind by a tall young man
with a porcelain face, red and round. Following him
three more men in uniforms embroidered in gold, and
three garbed in civilian wear, moved in slowly. They
stirred about the table for a long time and finally took
seats in the armchairs. When they had sat down, one of
them in unbuttoned uniform, with a sleepy, clean-shaven
face, began to say something to the little old man, mov-
ing his puflfy lips heavily and soundlessly. The old man
listened, sitting strangely erect and immobile. Behind
the glasses of his pince-nez the mother saw two little col-
orless specks.

At the end of the table, at the desk, stood a tall, bald
man, who coughed and shoved papers about.

The little old man swung forward and began to speak.
He pronounced clearly the first words, but what followed
seemed to creep without sound from his thin, gray lips.
1 Open

" See ! " whispered Sizov, nudging the mother softly
and arising.

In the wall behind the grill the door opened, a soldier
came out with a bared saber on his shoulder ; behind him
appeared Pavel, Andrey, Fedya Mazin, the two Gusevs,
Samoylov, Bukin, Somov, and five more young men
whose names were unknown to the mother. Pavel smiled
kindly ; Andrey also, showing his teeth as he nodded to
her. The hall, as it were, became lighter and simpler
from their smile; the strained, unnatural silence was en-
livened by their faces and movements. The greasy glitter
of gold on the uniforms dimmed and softened. A waft
of bold assurance, the breath of living power, reached
the mother's heart and roused it. On the benches behind

433

MOTHER

her, where up to that time the people had been wait-
ing in crushed silence, a responsive, subdued hum was
audible.

" They're not trembling! " she heard Sizov whisper;
and at her right side Samoylov's mother burst into soft
sobs.

" Silence ! " came a stern shout.

" I warn you beforehand," said the old man, " I shall
have to -"

434

CHAPTER XV

*AVEL and Andrey sat side by side; along
with them on the first bench were Mazin,
Samoylov, and the Gusevs. Andrey had
shaved his beard, but his mustache had
grown and hung down, and gave his round
head the appearance of a seacow or walrus. Something
new lay on his face; something sharp and biting in the
folds about his mouth ; something black in his eyes. On
Mazin's upper lip two black streaks were limned, his face
was fuller. Samoylov was just as curly-haired as be-
fore ; and Ivan Gusev smiled just as broadly.

" Ah, Fedka, Fedka ! " whispered Sizov, drooping his
head.

The mother felt she could breathe more freely. She
heard the indistinct questions of the old man, which he
put without looking at the prisoners ; and his head rested
motionless on the collar of his uniform. She heard the
calm, brief answers of her son. It seemed to her that
the oldest judge and his associates could be neither evil
nor cruel people. Looking carefully at their faces she
tried to guess something, softly listening to the growth
of a new hope in her breast.

The porcelain-faced man read a paper indififerently ;
his even voice filled the hall with weariness, and the peo-
ple, enfolded by it, sat motionless as if benumbed. Four
lawyers softly but animatedly conversed with the pris-

435

MOTHER

oners. They all moved powerfully, briskly, and called
to mind large blackbirds.

On one side of the old man a judge with small,
bleared eyes filled the armchair with his fat, bloated
body. On the other side sat a stooping man with reddish
mustache on his pale face. His head was wearily thrown
on the back of the chair, his eyes, half-closed, he seemed
to be reflecting over something. The face of the prose-
cuting attorney was also worn, bored, and unexpectant.
Behind the judge sat the mayor of the city, a portly man,
who meditatively stroked his cheek; the marshal of the
nobility, a gray-haired, large-bearded, ruddy-faced man,
with large, kind eyes ; and the district elder, who wore a
sleeveless peasant overcoat, and possessed a huge belly
which apparently embarrassed him; he endeavored to
cover it with the folds of his overcoat, but it always slid
down and showed again.

" There are no criminals here and no judges," Pavel's
vigorous voice was heard. " There are only captives
here, and conquerors ! "

Silence fell. For a few seconds the mother's ears
heard only the thin, hasty scratch of the pen on the paper
and the beating of her own heart.

The oldest judge also seemed to be listening to
something from afar. His associates stirred. Then
he said:

" Hm ! yes — ^Audrey Nakhodka, do you admit "

Somebody whispered, " Rise ! "

Audrey slowly rose, straightened himself, and pulling
his mustache looked at the old man from the corners of
his eyes.

" Yes ! To what can I confess myself guilty ? " said
the Little Russian in his slow, surging voice, shrugging
his shoulders. " I did not murder nor steal ; I simply

436

MOTHER

am not in agreement with an order of life in which people
are compelled to rob and kill one another."

" Answer briefly — ^yes or no ? " the old man said
with an effort, but distinctly.

On the benches back of her the mother felt there
was animation; the people began to whisper to one an-
other about something and stirred, sighing as if freeing
themselves from the cobweb spun about them by the gray
words of the porcelain- faced man.

" Do you hear how they speak ? " whispered Sizov.

" Yes."

" Fedor Mazin, answer ! "

" I don't want to ! " said Fedya clearly, jumping to
his feet. His face reddened with excitation, his eyes
sparkled. For some reason he hid his hands behind his
back.

Sizov groaned softly, and the mother opened her eyes
wide in astonishment.

" I declined a defense — I'm not going to say anything
— ^I don't regard your court as legal ! Who are you ?
Did the people give you the right to judge us? No, they
did not! I don't know you." He sat down and con-
cealed his heated face behind Audrey's shoulders.

The fat judge inclined his head to the old judge and
whispered something. The old judge, pale-faced, raised
his eyelids and slanted his eyes at the prisoners, then •
extended his hand on the table, and wrote something in
pencil on a piece of paper lying before him. The district
elder swung his head, carefully shifting his feet, rested
his abdomen on his knees, and his hands on his abdo-
men. Without moving his head the old judge turned
his body to the red-mustached judge, and began to speak
to him quickly. The red-mustached judge inclined his
head to listen. The marshal of the nobility conversed

437

MOTHER

with the prosecuting attorney ; the mayor of the city lis-
tened and smiled, rybbing his cheek. Again the dull
speech of the old judge was heard. All four lawyers
listened attentively. The prisoners exchanged whispers
with one another, and Fedya, smiling in confusion, hid
his face.

" How he cut them off ! Straight, downright, better
than all ! " Sizov whispered in amazement in the ear of
the mother. " Ah, you little boy ! "

The mother smiled in perplexity. The proceedings
seemed to be nothing but the necessary preliminary to
something terrible, which would appear and at once stifle
everybody with its cold horror. But the calm words of
Pavel and Andrey had sounded so fearless and firm, as
if uttered in the little house of the suburb, and not in
the presence of the court. Fedya's hot, youthful sally
amused her; something bold and fresh grew up in the
hall, and she guessed from the movement of the peo-
ple back of her that she was not the only one who
felt this.

" Your opinion," said the old judge.

The bald-headed prosecuting attorney arose, and,
steadying himself on the desk with one hand, began to
speak rapidly, quoting figures. In his voice nothing ter-
rible was heard.

At the same time, however, a sudden dry, shooting
attack disturbed the heart of the mother. It was an
uneasy suspicion of something hostile to her, which did
not threaten, did not shout, but unfolded itself unseen,
soundless, intangible. It swung lazily and dully about
the judges, as if enveloping them wi^ an impervious
cloud, through wiiich nothing from the outside could
reach them. She looked at them. They were incompre-
hensible to her. They^ were not angry at Pavel or at

438

MOTHER

Fedya ; they did not shout at the young men, as she had
expected; they did not abuse them in words, but put all
their questions reluctantly, with the air of " What's the
use ? ". It cost them an effort to hear the answers to the
end. Apparently they lacked interest because they knew
everything beforehand.

There before her stood the gendarme, and spoke in a
bass voice:

" Pavel Vlasov was named as the ringleader."

"And Nakhodka?" asked the fat judge in his lazy
undertone.

" He, too."

" May I "

The old judge asked a question of somebody :

" You have nothing? "

All the judges seemed to the mother to be worn out
and ill. A sickened weariness marked their poses and
voices, a sickened weariness and a bored, gray ennui.
It was an evident nuisance to them, all this — the uni-
forms, the hall, the gendarmes, the lawyers, the obligation
to sit in armchairs, and to put questions concerning things
perforce already known to them. The mother in general
was but little acquainted with the masters; she had
scarcely ever seen them ; and now she regarded the faces
of the judges as something altogether new and incom-
prehensible, deserving pity, however, rather than inspir-
ing horror.

The familiar, yellow-faced officer stood before them,
and told about Pavel and Audrey, stretching the words
with an air of importance. The mother involuntarily
laughed, and thought : " You don't know much, my little
father."

And now, as she looked at the people behind the grill,
she ceased to feel dread for them; they did not evoke

439

MOTHER

alarm, pity was not for them; they one and all called
forth in her only admiration and love, which warmly
embraced her heart; the admiration was calm, the love
joyously distinct. There they sat to one side, by the wall,
young, sturdy, scarcely taking any part in the monoto-
nous talk of the witnesses and judges, or in the dis-
putes of the lawyers with the prosecuting attorney. They
behaved as if the talk did not concern them in the least.
Sometimes somebody would laugh contemptuously, and
say something to the comrades, across whose faces, then,
a sarcastic smile would also quickly pass. Andrey and
Pavel conversed almost the entire time with one of their
lawyers, whom the mother had seen the day before at
Nikolay's, and had heard Nikolay address as comrade.
Mazin, brisker and more animated than the others, lis-
tened to the conversation. Now and then Samoylov said
something to Ivan Gusev; and the mother noticed that
each time Ivan gave a slight elbow nudge to a comrade,
he could scarcely restrain a laugh ; his face would grow
red, his cheeks would puff up, and he would have to in-
cline his head. He had already sniffed a couple of times,
and for several minutes afterward sat with blown cheeks
trying to be serious. Thus, in each comrade his youth
played and sparkled after his fashion, lightly bursting
the restraint he endeavored to put upon its lively effer-
vescence. She looked, compared, and reflected. She was
unable to understand or express in words her uneasy
feeling of hostility.

Sizov touched her lightly with his elbow ; she turned
to him, and found a look of contentment and slight pre-
occupation on his face.

" Just see how they've intrenched themselves in their
defiance! Fine stuff in 'em! Eh? Barons, eh? Well,
and yet they're going to be sentenced ! "

440

MOTHMR

The mother listened, unconsciously repeating to her-
self:

" Who will pass the sentence ? Whom will they sen-
tence?"

The witnesses spoke quickly, in their colorless voices,
the judges reluctantly and listlessly. Their bloodless,
worn-out faces stared into space unconcernedly. They
did not expect to see or hear anything new. At times
the fat judge yawned, covering his smile with his puffy
hand, while the red-mustached judge grew still paler, and
sometimes raised his hand to press his finger tightly on
the bone of his temple, as he looked up to the ceiling with
sorrowful, widened eyes. The prosecuting attorney in-
frequently scribbled on his paper, and then resumed his
soundless conversation with the marshal of the nobility,
who stroked his gray beard, rolled his large, beautiful
eyes, and smiled, nodding his head with importance. The
city mayor sat with crossed legs, and beat a noiseless
tattoo on his knee, giving the play of his fingers con-
centrated attention. The only one who listened to the
monotonous murmur of the voices seemed to be the dis-
trict elder, who sat with inclined head, supporting his
abdomen on his knees and solicitously holding it up
with his hands. The old judge, deep in his armchair,
stuck there immovably. The proceedings continued to
drag on in this way for a long, long time; and ennui
again numbed the people with its heavy, sticky em-
brace.

The mother saw that this large hall was not yet per-
vaded by that cold, threatening justice which sternly
uncovers the soul, examines it, and seeing everything
estimates its value with incorruptible eyes, weighing it
rigorously with honest hands. Here was nothing to
fr'ghten her by its power or majesty.

441

MOTHER

" I declare—" said the old judge clearly, and arose
as he crushed the following words with his thin lips. .

The noise of sighs and low exclamations, of coughing
and scraping of feet, filled the hall as the court retired
for a recess. The prisoners were led away. As they
walked out, they nodded their heads to their relatives
and familiars with a smile, and Ivan Gusev shouted to
somebody in a modulated voice:

" Don't lose courage, Yegor."

The nlother and Sizov walked out into the cor-
ridor.

" Will you go to the tavern with me to take some
tea?" the old man asked her solicitously. "We have
an hour and a half's time,"

" I don't want to."

" Well, then I won't go, either. No, say ! What fel-
lows those are ! They act as if they were the only real
people, and the rest nothing at all. They'll all go scot-
free, I'm sure. Look at Fedka, eh ? "

Samoylov's father came up to them holding his hat
in his hand. He smiled sullenly and said :

" My Vasily ! He declined a defense, and doesn't
want to palaver. He was the first to have the idea.
Yours, Pelagueya, stood for lawyers ; and mine said : ' I
don't want one.' And four declined after him. Hm,
ye-es."

At his side stood his wife. She blinked frequently^
and wiped her nose with the end of her handkerchief.
Samoylov took his beard in his hand, and continued look-
ing at the floor.

" Now, this is the queer thing about it : you look at
them, those devils, and you think they got up all this at
random — ^they're ruining themselves for nothing. And
suddenly you begin to think : ' And maybe they're right! '

442

MOTHER

You remember that in the factory more like them keep
on coming, keep on coming. They always get caught;
but they're not destroyed, no more than common fish in
the river get destroyed. No. And again you think, ' And
maybe power is with them, too.' "

" It's hard for us, Stepan Petrov, to understand this
affair," said Sizov.

" It's hard, yes," agreed Samoylov.

His wife noisily drawing in air through her nose
remarked :

" They're all strong, those imps ! " With an unre-
strained smile on her broad, wizened face, she continued :
" You, Nilovna, don't be angry with me because I just
now slapped you, when I said that your son is to blame.
A dog can tell who's the more to blame, to tell you the
truth. Look at the gendarmes and the spies, what they
said about our Vasily! He has shown what he can do
too!"

She apparently was proud of her son, perhaps even
without understanding her feeling; but the mother did
understand her feeling, and answered with a kind smile
and quiet words :

" A young heart is always nearer to the truth."

People rambled about the corridor, gathered into
groups, speaking excitedly and thoughtfully in hollow
voices. Scarcely anybody stood alone; all faces bore
evidence of a desire to speak, to ask, to listen. In the
narrow white passageway the people coiled about in sinu-
ous curves, like dust carried in circles before a powerful
wind. Everybody seemed to be seeking something hard
and firm to stand upon.

The older brother of Bukin, a tall, red-faced fellow,
waved his hands and turned about rapidly in all direc-
tions.

29 443

MOTHER

" The district elder Klepanov has no place in this case,"
he declared aloud.

" Keep still, Konstantin ! " his father, a little old man,
tried to dissuade him, and looked around cautiously.

" No ; I'm going to speak out ! There's a rumor
afloat about him that last year he killed a clerk of his on
account of the clerk's wife. What kind of a judge is he ?
permit me to ask. He lives with the wife of his clerk —
what have you got to say to that? Besides, he's a well-
known thief ! "

" Oh, my little father— Konstantin ! "

" True ! " said Samoylov. " True, the court is not a
very just one."

Bukin heard his voice and quickly walked up to him,
drawing the whole crowd after him. Red with excite-
ment, he waved his hands and said :

" For thievery, for murder, jurymen do the trying.
They're common people, peasants, merchants, if you
please ; but for going against the authorities you're tried
by the authorities. How's that ? "

" Konstantin ! Why are they against the authorities ?
Ah, you ! They "

" No, wait ! Fedor Mazin said the truth. If you
insult me, and I land you one on your jaw, and you try
me for it, of course I'm going to turn out guilty. But
the first offender — who was it ? You ? Of course, you ! "

The watchman, a gray man with a hooked nose and
medals on his chest, pushed the crowd apart, and said to
Bukin, shaking his finger at him:

" Hey ! don't shout! Don't you know where you are?
Do you think this is a saloon? "

" Permit me, my cavalier, I know where I am.
Listen! If I strike you and you me, and I go and try
you, what would you think ? "

444

MOTBMR

" And I'll order you out," said the watchman sternly.

"Whereto? What for?"

" Into the street, so that you shan't bawl."

" The chief thing for them is that people should keep
their mouths shut."

"And what do you think?" the old man bawled.
Bukin threw out his hands, and again measuring the
public with his eyes, began to speak in a lower voice :

" And again — why are the people not permitted to be
at the trial, but only the relatives? If you judge right-
eously, then judge in front of everybody. What is there
to be afraid of?"

Samoylov repeated, but this time in a louder tone :

" The trial is not altogether just, that's true."

The mother wanted to say to him that she had heard
from Nikolay of the dishonesty of the court; but she
had not wholly comprehended Nikolay, and had forgot-
ten some of his words. While trying to recall them she
moved aside from the people, and noticed that somebody
was looking at her — a young man with a light mustache.
He held .his right hand in the pocket of his trousers,
which made his left shoulder seem lower than the right,
and this peculiarity of his figure seemed familiar to the
mother. But he turned from her, and she again lost her-
self in the endeavor to recollect, and forgot about him
immediately. In a minute, however, her ear was caught
by the low question :

" This woman on the left ? "

And somebody in a louder voice cheerfully answered :

" Yes."

She looked around. The man with the uneven shoul-
ders stood sidewise toward her, and said something to
his neighbor, a black-bearded fellow with a short over-
coat and boots up to his knees.

445

MOTHMR

Again her memory stirred uneasily, but did not yield
any distinct results.

The watchman opened the door of the hall, and
shouted :

" Relatives, enter ; show your tickets ! "

A sullen voice said lazily :

" Tickets ! Like a circus ! "

All the people now showed signs of a dull excitement,
an uneasy passion. They began to behave more freely,
and hummed and disputed with the watchman.

Sitting down on the bench, Sizov mumbled something
to the mother.

" What is it? " asked the mother,

"Oh, nothing — the people are fools! They know
nothing ; they live groping about and groping about."

The bellman rang; somebody announced indiffer-
ently :

" The session has begun ! "

Again all arose, and again, in the same order, the
judges filed in and sat down; then the prisoners were
led in.

" Pay attention ! " whispered Sizov ; " the prosecuting
attorney is going to speak."

The mother craned her neck and extended her whole
body. She yielded anew to expectation of the horrible.

Standing sidewise toward the judges, his head turned
to them, leaning his elbow on the desk, the prosecuting
attorney sighed, and abruptly waving his right hand in
the air, began to speak :

The mother could not make out the first words. The
prosecuting attorney's voice was fluent, thick ; it sped on
unevenly, now a bit slower, now a bit faster. His words
stretched out in a thin line, like a gray seam; suddenly
they burst out quickly and whirled like a flock of black

446

MOTHBR

flies around a piece of sugar. But she did not find any-
thing horrible in them, nothing threatening. Cold as
snow, gray as ashes, they fell and fell, filling the hall with
something which recalled a slushy day in early autumn.
Scant in feeling, rich in words, the speech seemed not
to reach Pavel and his comrade. Apparently it touched
none of them ; they all sat there quite composed, smiling
at times as before, and conversed without sound. At
times they frowned to cover up their smiles.

" He lies ! " whispered Sizov.

She could not have said it. She understood that the
prosecuting attorney charged all the comrades with guilt,
not singling out any one of them. After having spoken
about Pavel, he spoke about Fedya, and having put him
side by side with Pavel, he persistently thrust Bukin up
against them. It seemed as if he packed and sewed them
into a sack, piling them up on top of one another. But
the external sense of his words did not satisfy, did not
touch, did not frighten her. She still waited for the hor-
rible, and rigorously sought something beyond his words
— something in his face, his eyes, his voice, in his white
hand, which slowly glided in the air. Something terrible
must be there; she felt it, but it was impalpable; it did
not yield to her consciousness, which again covered her
heart with a dry, pricking dust.

She looked at the judges. There was no gainsaying
that they were bored at having to listen to this speech.
The lifeless, yellow faces expressed nothing. The sickly,
the fat, or the extremely lean, motionless dead spots all
grew dimmer and dimmer in the dull ennui that filled the
hall. The words of the prosecuting attorney spurted into
the air like a haze imperceptible to the eye, growing and
thickening around the judges, enveloping them more
closely in a cloud of dry indifference, of weary waiting.

447

MOTHMR

At times one of them changed his pose; but the lazy
movement of the tired body did not rouse their drowsy
souls. The oldest judge did not stir at all ; he was con-
gealed in his erect position, and the gray blots behind
the eyeglasses at times disappeared, seeming to spread
over his whole face. The mother realized this dead indif-
ference, this unconcern without malice in it, and asked
herself in perplexity, " Are they judging? "

The question pressed her heart, and gradually squeezed
out of it her expectation of the horrible. It pinched her
throat with a sharp feeling of wrong.

The speech of the prosecuting attorney snapped off
unexpectedly. He made a few quick, short steps, bowed
to the judges, and sat down, rubbing his hands. The
marshal of the nobility nodded his head to him, rolling
his eyes ; the city mayor extended his hand, and the dis-
trict elder stroked his belly and smiled.

But the judges apparently were not delighted by the
speech, and did not stir.

" The scabby devil ! " Sizov whispered the oath.

" Next," said the old judge, bringing the paper to his
face, "lawyers for the defendants, Fedoseyev, Markov,
Zagarov."

The lawyer whom the mother had seen at Nikolay's
arose. His face was broad and good-natured; his little
eyes smiled radiantly and seemed to thrust out from
under his eyebrows two sharp blades, which cut the air
like scissors. He spoke without haste, resonantly, and
clearly ; but the mother was unable to listen to his speech.
Sizov whispered in her ear :

" Did you understand what he said ? Did yon under-
stand? ' People,' he says, ' are poor, they are all upset,
insensate.' Is that Fedor? He says they don't under-
stand anything ; they're savages."

448

MOTHER

The feeling of wrong grew, and passed into revolt.
Along with the quick, loud voice of the lawyer, time also
passed more quickly.

" A live, strong man having in his breast a sensitive,
honest heart cannot help rebelling with all his force
against this life so full of open cynicism, corruption,
falsehood, and so blunted by vapidity. The eyes of hon-
est people cannot help seeing such glaring contradic-
tions "

The judge with the green face bent toward the presi-
dent and whispered something to him; then the old man
said dryly :

" Please be more careful ! "

" Ha ! " Sizov exclaimed softly.

"Are they judging?" thought the mother, and the
word seemed hollow and empty as an earthen vessel.
It seemed to make sport of her fear of the terrible.

" They're a sort of dead body," she answered the old
man.

" Don't fear ; they're livening up."

She looked at them, and she actually saw something
liKe a shadow of uneasiness on the faces of the judges.
Another man was already speaking, a little lawyer with
a sharp, pale, satiric face. He spoke very respectfully :

" With all due respect, I permit myself to call the at-
tention of the court to the solid manner of the honorable
prosecuting attorney, to the conduct of the safety depart-
ment, or, as such people are called in common parlance,
spies "

The judge with the green face again began to whis-
per something to the president. The prosecuting attor-
ney jumped up. The lawyer continued without changing
his voice:

" The spy Gyman tells us about the witness : ' I fright-

449

MOTHER

ened him.' The prosecuting attorney also, as the court
has heard, frightened witnesses ; as a result of which act,
at the insistence of the defense, he called forth a rebuke
from the presiding judge."

The prosecuting attorney began to speak quickly and
angrily ; the old judge followed suit ; the lawyer listened
to them respectfully, inclining his head. Then he said :

" I can even change the position of my words if the
prosecuting attorney deems it is not in the right place;
but that will not change the plan of my" defense. How-
ever, I cannot understand the excitement of the prosecut-
ing attorney."

" Go for him ! " said Sizov. " Go for him, tooth and
nail! Pick him open down to his soul, wherever that
may be ! "

The hall became animated; a fighting passion flared
up; the defense attacked from all sides, provoking and
disturbing the judges, driving away the cold haze that
enveloped them, pricking the old skin of the judges with
sharp words. The judges had the air of moving more
closely to one another, or suddenly they would puff and
swell, repulsing the sharp, caustic raps with the mass of
their soft, mellow bodies. They acted as if they feared
that the blow of the opponent might call forth an echo in
their empty bosoms, might shake their resolution, which
sprang not from their own will but from a will strange
to them. Feeling this conflict, the people on the benches
back of the mother sighed and whispered.

But suddenly Pavel arose ; tense quiet prevailed. The
mother stretched her entire body forward.

" A party man, I recognize only the court of my party
and will not speak in my defense. According to the
desire of my comrades, I, too, declined a defense. I will
merely try to explain to you what you don't understand.

450

MOTHER

The prosecuting attorney designated our coming out
under the banner of the Social Democracy as an uprising
against the superior power, and regarded us as nothing
but rebels against the Czar. I must declare to you that
to us the Czar is not the only chain that fetters the body(
of the country. We are obliged to tear off only the first^
and nearest chain from the people."

The stillness deepened under the sound of the firm
voice ; it seemed to widen the space between the walls of
the hall. Pavel, by his words, removed the people to a dis-
tance from himself, and thereby grew in the eyes of the
mother. His stony, calm, proud face with the beard, his
high forehead, and blue eyes, somewhat stern, all became
more dazzling and more prominent.

The judges began to stir heavily and uneasily; the
marshal of the nobility was the first to whisper something
to the judge with the indolent face. The judge nodded
his head and turned to the old man ; on the other side of
him the sick judge was talking. Rocking back and forth
in the armchair, the old judge spoke to Pavel, but his
voice was drowned in the even, broad current of the
young man's speech.

"JWe are Socialigts ! That means we are enemies to
private property, which separates people, arms them
against one another, and brings forth an irreconcilable
hostility of interests ; brings forth lies that endeavor to
cover up, or to justify, this conflict of interests, and cor-
rupt all with falsehood, hypocrisy and malice. We main-
tain that a society that regards man only as a tool for
its enrichment is anti-human ; it is hostile to us ; we can-
not be reconciled to its morality; its double-faced and
lying cynicism. Its cruel relation to individuals is repug-
nant to us. We want to fight, and will fight, every form
of the physical and moral enslavement of man by such a

451

MOTHBR

society ; we will fight every measure calculated to disinte-
grate society for the gratification of the interests of gain.
We are workers — men by whose labor everything is
created, from gigantic machines to childish toys. We
are people devoid of the right to fight for our human dig-
nity. Everyone strives to utilize us, and may utilize us,
as tools for the attainment of his ends. Now we want to
have as much freedom as will give us the possibility in
time to come to conquer all the power. Our slogan is
simple : ' All the power for the people ; all the means of
production for the people ; work obligatory on all. Down
with private property ! ' You see, we are not rebels."

Pavel smiled, and the kindly fire of his blue eyes
blazed forth more brilliantly.

" Please, more to the point ! " said the presiding judge
distinctly and aloud. He turned his chest to Pavel, and
regarded him. It seemed to the mother that his dim
left eye began to burn with a sinister, greedy fire. The
look all the judges cast on her son made her uneasy for
him. She fancied that their eyes clung to his face, stuck
to his body, thirsted for his blood, by which they might
reanimate their own worn-out bodies. And he, erect and
tall, standing firmly and vigorously, stretched out his
hand to them while he spoke distinctly :

" We are revolutionists, and will be such as long as
private property exists, as long as some merely command,
and as long as others merely work. We take stand
against the society whose interests you are bidden to pro-
tect as your irreconcilable enemies, and reconciliation be-
tween us is impossible until we shall have been victori-
ous. We will conquer — we workingmen! Your society
is not at all so powerful as it thinks itself. That very
property, for the production and preservation of which
it sacrifices millions of people enslaved by it — that very

452

MOTHMR

force which gives it the power over us — stirs up dis-
cord within its own ranks, destroys them physically and
morally. Property requires extremely great efforts for
its protection; and in reality all of you, our rulers, are
greater slaves than we — ^you are enslaved spiritually, we
only physically. You cannot withdraw from under the
weight of your prejudices and habits, the weight which
deadens you spiritually; nothing hinders us from being
inwardly free. The poisons with which you poison us are
weaker than the antidote you unwittingly administer to our
consciences. This antidote penetrates deeper and deeper
into the body of workingmen; the flames mount higher
and higher, sucking in the best forces, the spiritual pow-
ers, the healthy elements even from among you. Look!
Not one of you can any longer fight for your power as an
ideal ! You have already expended all the arguments capa-
ble of guarding you against the pressure of historic justice.
You can create nothing new in the domain of ideas ; you
are spiritually barren. Our ideas grow; they flare up
ever more dazzling; they seize hold of the mass of the
people, organizing them for the war of freedom. The
consciousness of their great role unites all the working-
men of the world into one soul. You have no means
whereby to hinder this renovating process in life except
cruelty and cynicism. But your cynicism is very evident,
your cruelty exasperates, and the hands with which you
stifle us to-day will press our hands in comradeship to-
morrow. Your energy, the mechanical energy of the
increase of gold, separates you, too, into groups destined
to devour one another. Our energy is a living power,
founded on the ever-growing consciousness of the soli-
darity of all workingmen. Everything you do is crim-
inal, for it is directed toward the enslavement of the
people. Our work frees the world from the delusions and

453

MOTHMR

monsters which are produced by your malice and greed,
and which intimidate the people. You have torn man away
from life and disintegrated him. Socialism will unite the
world, rent asunder by you, into one huge whole. And
this will be!"

Pavel stopped for a second, and repeated in a lower
tone, with greater emphasis, " This will be ! "

The judges whispered to one another, making strange
grimaces. And still their greedy looks were fastened on
the body of Nilovna's son. The mother felt that their
gaze tarnished this supple, vigorous body; that they
envied its strength, power, freshness. The prisoners
listened attentively to the speech of their comrade; their
faces whitened, their eyes flashed joy. The mother drank
in her son's words, which cut themselves into her memory
in regular rows. The old judge stopped Pavel several
times and explained something to him. Once he even
smiled sadly. Pavel listened to him silently, and again
began to speak in an austere but calm voice, compelling
everybody to listen to him, subordinating the will of the
judges to his will. This lasted for a long time. Finally,
however, the old man shouted, extending his hand to
Pavel, whose voice in response flowed on calmly, some-
what sarcastically.

" I am reaching my conclusion. To insult you per-
sonally was not my desire; on the contrary, as an invol-
untary witness to this comedy which you call a court
trial, I feel almost compassion for you, I may say. You
are human beings after all; and it is saddening to see
human beings, even our enemies, so shamefully debased
in the service of violence, debased to such a degree that
they lose consciousness of their human dignity."

He sat down without looking at the judges.

Audrey, all radiant with joy, pressed his hand firmly;
454

MOTHER

Samoylov, Mazin, and the rest animatedly stretched to-
ward him. He smiled, a bit embarrassed by the transport
of his comrades. He looked toward his mother, and nod-
ded his head as if asking, " Is it so ? "

She answered him all a-tremble, all suffused with
warm joy.

" There, now the trial has begun ! " whispered Sizov.
" How he gave it to them! Eh, mother? "

455

CHAPTER XVI

fHE silently nodded her head and smiled, sat-
isfied that her son had spoken so bravely,
perhaps still more satisfied that he had fin-
ished. The thought darted through her
mind that the speech was likely to increase
the dangers threatening Pavel; but her heart palpitated
with pride, and his words seemed to settle in her bosom.

Andrey arose, swung his body forward, looked at the
judges sidewise, and said:

" Gentlemen of the defense "

" The court is before you, and not the defense ! "
observed the judge of the sickly face angrily and loudly.
By Andrey's expression the mother perceived that he
wanted to tease them. His mustache quivered. A cun-
ning, feline smirk familiar to her lighted up his eyes. He
stroked his head with his long hands, and fetched a
breath.

" Is that so ? " he said, swinging his head. " I think
not. That you are not the judges, but only the defend-
ants "

" I request you to adhere to what directly pertains to
the case," remarked the old man dryly.

" To what directly pertains to the case ? Very well !
I've already compelled myself to think that you are in

reality judges, independent people, honest "

" The court has no need of your characterization,"
"l^ has no need of such a characterization? Hey?
456

MOTHMR

Well, but after all I'm going to continue. You are men
who make no distinction between your own and strang-
ers. You are free people. Now, here two parties stand
before you ; one complains, ' He robbed me and did me
up completely ' ; and the other answers, ' I have a right
to rob and to do up because I have arms ' "

" Please don't tell anecdotes."

"Why, I've heard that old people like anecdotes —
naughty ones in particular."

" I'll prohibit you from speaking. You may say some-
thing about what directly pertains to the case. Speak,
but without buffoonery, without unbecoming sallies."

The Little Russian looked at the judges, silently rub-
bing his head.

" About what directly pertains to the case ? " he asked
seriously. " Yes ; but why should I speak to you about
what directly pertains to the case? What you need to
know my comrade has told you. The rest will be told
you; the time will come, by others "

The old judge rose and declared :

" I forbid you to speak. Vasily Samoylov ! "

Pressing his lips together firmly the Little Russian
dropped down lazily on the bench, and Samoylov arose
alongside of him, shaking his curly hair.

"The prosecuting attorney called my comrades and
me ' savages/ ' enemies of civilization ' "

" You must speak only about that which pertains to
your case."

" This pertains to the case. There's nothing which
does not pertain to honest men, and I ask you not to
interrupt me. I ask you what sort of a thing is your
civilization ? "

" We are not here for discussions with you. To the
point! " said the old judge, showing his teeth.

457

MOTHER

Andrey's demeanor had evidently changed the con-
duct of the judges; his words seemed to have wiped
something away from them. Stains appeared on their
gray faces. Cold, green sparks burned in their eyes.
Pavel's speech had excited but subdued them; it re-
strained their agitation by its force, which involuntarily
inspired respect. The Little Russian broke away this
restraint and easily bared what lay underneath. They
looked at Samoylov, and whispered to one another with
strange, wry faces. They also began to move extremely
quickly for them. They gave the impression of desiring
to seize him and howl while torturing his body with
voluptuous ecstasy.

" You rear spies, you deprave women and girls, you
put men in the position which forces them to thievery
and murder; you corrupt them with whisky — interna-
tional butchery, universal falsehood, depravity, and sav-
agery— ^that's your civilization ! Yes, we are enemies of
this civilization ! "

" Please 1 " shouted the old judge, shaking his chin ;
but Samoylov, all red, his eyes flashing, also shouted:

" But we respect and esteem another civilization, the
creators of which you have persecuted, you have allowed
to rot in dungeons,, you have driven mad "

" I forbid you to speak ! Hm — Fedor Mazin ! "

Little Mazin popped up like a cork from a champagne
bottle, and said in a staccato voice :

" I — I swear ! — I know you have convicted me — -"

He lost breath and paled; his eyes seemed to devour
his entire face. He stretched out his hand and shouted:

" I — upon my honest word ! Wherever you send me
— I'll escape— I'll return — I'll work always — ^all my life!
Upon my honest word ! "

Sizov quacked aloud. The entire public, overcome by
458

MOTHER

the mounting wave of excitement, hummed strangely
and dully. One woman cried, some one choked and
coughed. The gendarmes regarded the prisoners with
dull surprise, the public with a sinister look. The judges
shook, the old man shouted in a thin voice :

"Ivan Gusev!"

" I don't want to speak."

"Vasily Gusev!"

" Don't want to."

"Fedor Bukin!"

The whitish, faded fellow lifted himself heavily, and
shaking his head slowly said in a thick voice :

" You ought to be ashamed. I am a heavy man, and
yet I understand — justice ! " He raised his hand higher
than his head and was silent, half-closing his eyes as if
looking at something at a distance.

"What is it?" shouted the old judge in excited as-
tonishment, dropping back in his armchair.

" Oh, well, what's the use? "

Bukin sullenly let himself down on the bench. There
was something big and serious in his dark eyes, some-
thing somberly reproachful and naive. Everybody felt
it; even the judges listened, as if waiting for an echo
clearer than his words. On the public benches all com-
motion died down immediately; only a low weeping
swung in the air. Then the prosecuting attorney, shrug-
ging his shoulders, grinned and said something to the
marshal of the nobility, and whispers gradually buzzed
again excitedly through the hall.

Weariness enveloped the mother's body with a stifling
faintness. Small drops of perspiration stood on her
forehead. Samoylov's mother stirrred on the bench,
nudging her with her shoulder and elbow, and said to
her husband in a subdued whisper :
30 459

MOTHER

" How is this, how? Is it possible? "

" You see, it's possible."

" But what is going to happen to him, to Vasily? "

" Keep still. Stop."

The public was jarred by something it did not under-
stand. All blinked in perplexity with blinded eyes, as if
dazzled by the sudden blazing up of an object, indis-
tinct in outline, of unknown meaning, but with horrible
drawing power. And since the people did not compre-
hend this great thing jdawning on them, they contracted
its significance into something small, the meaning of
which was evident and clear to them. The elder Bukin,
therefore, whispered aloud without constraint:

"Say, please, why don't they permit them to talk?
The prosecuting attorney can say everything, and as
much as he wants to "

A functionary stood at the benches, and waving his
hands at the people, said in a half voice :

"Quiet, quiet!"

The father of Samoylov threw himself back, and
ejaculated broken words behind his wife's ear:

" Of course — let us say they are guilty — ^but you'll
let them explain. What is it they have gone against?
Against everything — I wish to understand — I, too, have
my interest." And suddenly : " Pavel says the truth,
hey ? I want to understand. Let them speak."

" Keep still ! " exclaimed the functionary, shaking his
finger at him.

Sizov nodded his head sullenly.

But the mother kept her gaze fastened unwaveringly
on the judges, and saw that they got more and more
excited, conversing with one another in indistinct voices.
The sound of their words, cold and tickling, touched her
face, puckering the skin on it, and filling her mouth with

460

MOTHER

a sickly, disgusting taste. The mother somehow con-
ceived that they were all speaking of the bodies of hei-
son and his comrades, their vigorous bare bodies, their
muscles, their youthful limbs full of hot blood, of living
force. These bodies kindled in the judges the sinister,
impotent envy of the rich by the poor, the unwholesome
greed felt by wasted and sick people for the strength
of the healthy. Their mouths watered regretfully for
these bodies, capable of working and enriching, of re-
joicing and creating. The youths produced in the old
judges the revengeful, painful excitement of an enfeebled
beast which sees the fresh prey, but no longer has the
power to seize it, and howls dismally at its power-
lessness.

This thought, rude and strange, grew more vivid the
more attentively the mother scrutinized the judges. They
seemed not to conceal their excited greed — the impotent
vexation of the hungry who at one time had been able
to consume in abundance. To her, a woman and a
mother, to whom after all the body of her son is always
dearer than that in him which is called a soul, to her
it was horrible to see how these sticky, lightless eyes
crept over his face, felt his chest, shoulders, hands, tore
at the hot skin, as if seeking the possibility of taking fire,
of warming the blood in their hardened brains and fa-
tigued muscles — ^the brains and muscles of people already
half dead, but now to some degree reanimated by the
pricks of greed and envy of a young life that they pre-
sumed to sentence and remove to a distance from them-
selves. It seemed to her that her son, too, felt this damp,
unpleasant tickling contact, and, shuddering, looked at
her.

He looked into the mother's face with somewhat
fatigued eyes, but calmly, kindly, and warmly. At times

461

MOTHER

he nodded his head to her, and smiled — she understood
the smile.

" Now quick ! " she said.

Resting his hand on the table the oldest judge arose.
His head sunk in the collar of his uniform, standing
motionless, he began to read a paper in a droning voice.

" He's reading the sentence," said Sizov, listening.

It became quiet again, and everybody looked at the
old man, small, dry, straight, resembling the stick held
in his unseen hand. The other judges also stood up.
The district elder inclined his head on one shoulder, and
looked up to the ceiling; the mayor of the city crossed
his hands over his chest; the marshal of the nobility
stroked his beard. The judge with the sickly face, his
puffy neighbor* and the prosecuting attorney regarded
the prisoners sidewise. And behind the judges the Czar
in a red military coat, with an indifferent white face
looked down from his portrait over their heads. On
his face some insect was creeping, or a cobweb was
trembling.

" Exile ! " Sizov said with a sigh pf relief, dropping
back on the bench. " Well, of course ! Thank God ! I
heard that they were going to get hard labor. Never
mind, mother, that's nothing."

Fatigued by her thoughts and her immobility, she
understood the joy of the old man, which boldly raised
the soul dragged down by hopelessness. But it didn't
enliven her much.

" Why, I knew it," she answered.

" But, after all, it's certain now. Who could have
told beforehand what the authorities would do? But
Fedya is a fine fellow, dear soul."

They walked to the grill; the mother shed tears as
she pressed the hand of her son. He and Fedya spoke

462

MOTHER

kind words, smiled, and joked. All were excited, but
light and cheerful. The women wept ; but, like Vlasova,
more from habit than grief. They did not experience the
stunning pain produced by an unexpected blow on the
head, but only the sad consciousness that they must part
with the children. But even this consciousness was
dimmed by the impressions of the day. The fathers and
the mothers looked at their children with mingled sen-
sations, in which the skepticism of parents toward their
children and the habitual sense of the superiority of
elders over youth blended strangely with the feeling of
sheer respect for them, with the persistent melancholy
thought that life had now become dull, and with the curi-
osity aroused by the young men who so bravely and fear-
lessly spoke of the possibility of a new <life, which the
elders did not comprehend but which seemed to promise
something good. The very novelty and unusualness of
the feeling rendered expression impossible. Words were
spoken in plenty, but they referred only to common mat-
ters. The relatives spoke of linen and clothes, and
begged the comrades to take care of their health, and
not to provoke the authorities uselessly.

" Everybody, brother, will grow weary, both we and
they," said Samoylov to his son.

And Bukin's brother, waving his hand, assured the
younger brother:

" Merely justice, and nothing else! That they cannot
admit."

The younger Bukin answered :

" You look out for the starling. I love him."

"Come back home, and you'll find him in perfect
trim."

" I've nothing to do there."

And Sizov held his nephew's hand, and slowly said :
463

MOTHER

" So, Fedor ; so you've started on your trip. So."

Fedya bent over, and whispered something in his ear,
smiling roguishly. The convoy soldier also smiled; but
he immediately assumed a stern expression, and shouted,
"Go!"

The mother spoke to Pavel, like the others, about the
same things, about clothes, about his health, yet her
breast was choked by a hundred questions concerning
Sasha, concerning himself, and herself. Underneath all
these emotions an almost burdensome feeling was slowly
growing of the fullness of her love for her son — a
strained desire to please him, to be near to his heart.
The expectation of the terrible had died away, leaving
behind it only a tremor at the recollection of the judges^
and somewhere in a corner a dark impersonal thought
regarding them.

" Young people ought to be tried by young judges,
and not by old ones," she said to her son.

" It would be better to arrange life so that it should
not force people to crime," answered Pavel.

The mother, seeing the Little Russian converse with
everybody and realizing that he needed affection more
than Pavel, spoke to him. Andrey answered her grate-
fully, smiling, joking kindly, as always a bit droll, supple,
sinewy. Around her the talk went on, crossing and in-
tertwining. She heard everything, understood every-
body, and secretly marveled at the vastness of her own
heart, which took in everything with an even joy, and
gave back a clear reflection of it, like a bright image on
a deep, placid lake.

Finally the prisoners were led away. The mother
walked out of the court, and was surprised to see that
night already hung over the city, with the lanterns alight
in the streets, and the stars shining in the sky. Groups

464

MOTSOBR

composed mainly of young men were crowding near the
courthouse. The snow crunched in the frozen atmos-
phere ; voices sounded. A man in a gray Caucasian cowl
looked into Sizov's face and asked quickly:

" What was the sentence ? "

" Exile."

"For all?"

" All."

" Thank you."

The man walked away.

" You see," said Sizov. " They inquire."

Suddenly they were surrounded by about ten men,
youths, and girls, and explanations rained down, attract-
ing still more people. The mother and Sizov stopped.
They were questioned in regard to the sentence, as to
how the prisoners behaved, who delivered the speeches,
and what the speeches were about. All the voices rang
with the same eager curiosity, sincere and warm, which
aroused the desire to satisfy it.

"People! This is the mother of Pavel Vlasov!"
somebody shouted, and presently all became silent.

" Permit me to shake your hand."

Somebody's firm hand pressed the mother's fingers,
somebody's voice said excitedly:

"Your son will be an example of manhood for all
of us."

" Long live the Russian workingman ! " a resonant
voice rang out.

" Long live the proletariat ! "

" Long live the revolution ! "

The shouts grew louder and increased in number,
rising up on all sides. The people ran from every direc-
tion, pushing into the crowd around the mother and
Sizov. The whistles of the police leaped through the

46s

MOTHBR

air, but did not deafen the shouts. The old man smiled;
and to the mother all this seemed like a pleasant dream.
She smilingly pressed the hands extended to her and
bowed, with joyous tears choking her throat. Near her
somebody's clear voice said nervously:

" Comrades, friends, the autocracy, the monster which
devours the Russian people to-day again gulped into its
bottomless, greedy mouth "

" However, mother, let's go," said Sizov. And at
the same time Sasha appeared, caught the mother under
her arm, and quickly dragged her away to the other side
of the street.

"Come! They're going to make arrests. What?
Exile? To Siberia?"

" Yes, yes."

" And how did he speak ? I know without your tell-
ing me. He was more powerful than any of the others,
and more simple. And of course, sterner than all the
rest. He's sensitive and soft, only he's ashamed to ex-
pose himself. And he's direct, clear, firm, like truth itself.
He's very great, and there's everything in him, every-
thing ! But he often constrains himself for nothing, lest
he might hinder the cause. I know it." Her hot half-
whisper, the words of her love, calmed the mother's agi-
tation, and restored her exhausted strength.

" When will you go to him ? " she asked Sasha, press-
ing her hand to her body. Looking confidently before
her the girl answered:

" As soon as I find somebody to take over my work.
I have the money already, but I might go per etappe.
You know I am also awaiting a sentence. Evidently
they are going to send me to Siberia, too. I will then
declare that I desire to be exiled to the same locality that
he will be."

466

MOTHMR

Behind them was heard the voice of Sizov :

" Then give him regards from me, from Sizov. He
will know. I'm Fedya Mazin's uncle."

Sasha stopped, turned around, extending her hand.

" I'm acquainted with Fedya. My name is Alex-
andra."

" And your patronymic ? "

She looked at him and answered :

" I have no father."

" He's dead, you mean ? "

" No, he's alive." Something stubborn, persistent,
sounded in the girl's voice and appeared in her face.
" He's a landowner, a chief of a country district. He
robs the peasants and beats them. I cannot recognize
him as my father."

" S-s-o-o ! " Sizov was taken aback. After a pause
he said, looking at the girl sidewise :

" Well, mother, good-by. I'm going off to the left.
Stop in sometimes for a talk and a glass of tea. Good
evening, lady. You're pretty hard on your father — of
course, that's your business."

"If your son were an ugly man, obnoxious to people,
disgusting to you, wouldn't you say the same about
him?" Sasha shouted terribly.

"Well, I would," the old man answered after some
hesitation.

" That is to say that justice is dearer to you than
yoar son ; and to me it's dearer than my father."

Sizov smiled, shaking his head; then he said with a
sigh:

"Well, well, you're clever. Good-by. I wish you
all good things, and be better to people. Hey? Well,
God be with you. Good-by, Nilovna. When you see
Pavel tell him I heard his speech. I couldn't understand

467

MOTHER

every bit of it ; some things even seemed horrible ; but tell
him it's true. They've found the truth, yes."

He raised his hat, and sedately turned around the
corner of the street.

" He seems to be a good man," remarked Sasha, ac-
companying him with a smile of her large eyes. " Such
people can be useful to the cause. It would be good to
hide literature with them, for instance."

It seemed to the mother that to-day the girl's face
was softer and kinder than usual, and hearing her re-
marks about Sizov, she thought :

" Always about the cause. Even to-day. It's burned
into her heart."

468

CHAPTER XVII

[T home they sat on the sofa closely pressed
together, and the mother resting in the
quiet again began to speak about Sasha's
going to Pavel. Thoughtfully raising her
thick eyebrows, the girl looked into the dis-
tance with her large, dreamy eyes. A contemplative
expression rested on her pale face.

" Then, when children will be born to you, I will
come to you and dandle them. We'll begin to live there
no worse than here. Pasha will find work. He has
golden hands."

"Yes," answered Sasha thoughtfully. "That's
good — " And suddenly starting, as if throwing some-
thing away, she began to speak simply in a modulated
voice. " He won't commence to live there. He'll go
away, of course."

"And how will that be? Suppose, in case of chil-
dren?"

" I don't know. We'll see when we are there. In
such a case he oughtn't to reckon with me, and I cannot
constrain him. He's free at any moment. I am his
comrade — a wife, of course. But the conditions of his
work are such that for years and years I cannot regard
our bond as a usual one, like that of others. It will be
hard, I know it, to part with him; but, of course, I'll
manage to. He knows that I'm not capable of regarding

469

MOTHER

a man as my possession. I'm not going to constrain
him, no."

The mother understood her, felt that she believed
what she said, that she was capable of carrying it out;
and she was sorry for her. She embraced her.

" My dear girl, it will be hard for you."

Sasha smiled softly, nestling her body up to the
mother's. Her voice sounded mild, but powerful. Red
mounted to her face.

" It's a long time till then ; but don't think that I—
that it is hard for me now. I'm making no sacrifices.
I know what I'm doing, I know what I may expect. I'll
be happy if I can make him happy. My aim, my desire
is to increase his energy, to give him as much hap-
piness and love as I can — a great deal. I love him very
much and he me— ^I know it — what I bring to him,
he will give back to me — we will enrich each other by
all in our power; and, if necessary, we will part as
friends."

Sasha remained silent for a long time, during which
the mother and the young woman sat in a corner of the
room, tightly pressed against each other, thinking of
the man whom they loved. It was quiet, melancholy, and
warm.

Nikolay entered, exhausted, but brisk. He immedi-
ately announced:

" Well, Sashenka, betake yourself away from here, as
long as you are sound. Two spies have been after me
since this morning, and the attempt at concealment is so
evident that it savors of an arrest. I feel it in my bones
— somewhere something has happened. By the way, here
I have the speech of Pavel. It's been decided to pub-
lish it at once. Take it to Liudmila. Pavel spoke well,
Nilovna ; and his speech will play a part. Look out for

470

MOTHER

spies, Sasha. Wait a little while — hide these papers, tod.
You might give them to Ivan, for example."

While he spoke, he vigorously rubbed his frozen
hands, and quickly gulled out the drawers of his table,
picking out papers, some of which he tore up, others he
laid aside. His manner was absorbed, and his appearance
all upset.

" Do you suppose it was long ago that this place
was cleared out? And look at this mass of stuff accu-
mulated already ! The devil ! You see, Nilovna, it would
be better for you, too, not to sleep here to-night. It's
a sorry spectacle to witness, and they may arrest you,
too. And you'll be needed for carrying Pavel's speech
about from place to place."

"Hm, what do they want me for? Maybe you're
mistaken."

Nikolay waved his forearm in front of his eyes, and
said with conviction:

" I have a keen scent. Besides, you can be of great
help to Liudmila. Flee far from evil."

The possibility of taking a part in the printing of her
son's speech was pleasant to her, and she answered:

" If so, I'll go. But don't think I'm afraid."

" Very well. Now, tell me where my valise and my
linen are. You've grabbed up everything into your rapa-
cious hands, and I'm completely robbed of the possibility
of disposing of my own private property. I'm making
complete preparations — this will be unpleasant to them."

Sasha burned the papers in silence, and carefully
mixed their ashes with the other cinders in the stove.

" Sasha, go," said Nikolay, putting out his hand to
her. " Good-by. Don't forget books — if anything new
and interesting a:ppears. Well, good-by, dear comrade.
Be more careful."

MOTHER

" Do you think it's for long ? " asked Sasha.

" The devil knows them ! Evidently. There's some-
thing against me. Nilovna, are you going with her?
It's harder to track two people — ^all right?"

" I'm going." The mother went to dress herself, and
it occurred to her how little these people who were striv-
ing for the freedom of all cared for their personal free-
dom. The simplicity and the businesslike manner of
Nikolay in expecting the arrest both astonished and
touched her. She tried to observe his face carefully;
she detected nothing but his air of absorption, over-
shadowing the usual kindly soft expression of his eyes.
There was no sign of agitation in this man, dearer to
her than the others ; he made no fuss. Equally attentive
to all, alike kind to all, always calmly the same, he
seemed to her just as much a stranger as before to
everybody and everything except his cause. He seemed
remote, living a secret life within himself and somewhere
ahead of people. Yet she felt that he resembled her more
than any of the others, and she loved him with a love that
was carefully observing and, as it were, did not believe
in itself. Now she felt painfully sorry for him ; but she
restrained her feelings, knowing that to show them would
disconcert Nikolay, that he would become, as always
under such circumstances, somewhat ridiculous.

When she returned to the room she found him press-
ing Sasha's hand and saying:

"Admirable! I'm convinced of it. It's very good
for him and for you. A little personal happiness does
not do any harm ; but — a little, you know, so as not to
make him lose his value. Are you ready, Nilovna?"
He walked up to her, smiling and adjusting his glasses.
" Well, good-by. I want to think that for three months,
four months — well, at most half a year — ^half a year is

472

MOTHER

a great deal of a man's life. In half a year one can do
a lot of things. Take care of yourself, please, eh?
Come, let's embrace." Lean and thin he clasped her
neck in his powerful arms, looked into her eyes, and
smiled. " It seems to me I've fallen in love with you.
I keep embracing you all the time."

She was silent, kissing his forehead and cheeks, and
her hands quivered. For fear he might notice it, she
unclasped them.

" Go. Very well. Be careful to-morrow. This is
what you should do — send the boy in the morning — Liud-
mila has a boy for the purpose — let him go to the house
porter and ask him whether I'm home or not. I'll fore-
warn the porter ; he's a good fellow, and I'm a friend of
his. Well, good-by, comrades. I wish you all good."

On the street Sasha said quietly to the mother :

" He'll go as simply as this to his death, if necessary.
And apparently he'll hurry up a little in just the same
way; when death stares him in the face he'll adjust his
eyeglasses, and will say ' admirable,' and will die."

" I love him," whispered the mother.

" I'm filled with astonishment ; but love him — ^no. I
respect him highly. He's sort of dry, although good
and even, if you please, sometimes soft; but not suf-
ficiently human — it seems to me we're being followed.
Come, let's part. Don't enter Liudmila's place if you
think a spy is after you."

" I know," said the mother. Sasha, however, persist-
ently added : " Don't enter. In that case, come to me.
Good-by for the present."

She quickly turned around and walked back. The
mother called " Good-by " after her.

Within a few minutes she sat all frozen through at
the stove in Liudmila's little room. Her hostess, Liud-

473

MOTHER

mila, in a black dress girded up with a strap, slowly paced
up and down the room, filling it with a rustle and the
sound of her commanding voice. A fire was crackling
in the stove and drawing in the air from the room. The
woman's voice sounded evenly.

" People are a great deal more stupid than bad.
They can see only what's near to them, what it's possible
to grasp immediately ; but everything that's near is cheap ;
what's distant is dear. Why, in reality, it would be
more convenient and pleasanter for all if life were dif-
ferent, were lighter, and the people were more sensible.
But to attain the distant you must disturb yourself for
the immediate present •"

Nilovna tried to guess where this woman did her
printing. The room had three windows facing the
street ; there was a sofa and a bookcase, a table, chairs, a
bed at the wall, in the corner near it a wash basin, in the
other corner a stove; on the walls photographs and pic-
tures. All was new, solid, clean ; and over all the austere
monastic figure of the mistress threw a cold shadow.
Something concealed, something hidden, made itself felt ;
but where it lurked was incomprehensible. The mother
looked at the doors; through one of them she had en-
tered from the little antechamber. Near the stove was
another door, narrow and high.

" I have come to you on business," she said in embar-
rassment, noticing that the hostess was regarding her.

" I know. Nobody comes to me for any other rea-
son.

Something strange seemed to be in Liudmila's voice.
The mother looked in her face. Liudmila smiled with the
corners of her thin lips, her dull eyes gleamed behind her
glasses. Turning her glance aside, the mother handed
her the speech of Pavel.

474

MOTHER

" Here. They ask you to print it at once."

And she began to tell of Nikolay's preparations for
the arrest.

Liudmila silently thrust the manuscript into her belt
and sat down on a chair. A red gleam of the fire was
reflected on her spectacles; its hot smile played on her
motionless face.

" When they come to me I'm going to shoot at them,"
she said with determination in her moderated voice. " I
have the right to protect myself against violence; and
I must fight with them if I call upon others to fight. I
cannot understand calmness ; I don't like it."

The reflection of the fire glided across her face, and
she again became austere, somewhat haughty.

" Your life is not very pleasant," the mother thought
kindly.

Liudmila began to read Pavel's speech, at first reluc-
tantly; then she bent lower and lower over the paper,
quickly throwing aside the pages as she read them.
When she had finished she rose, straightened herself, and
walked up to the mother.

" That's good. That's what I like ; although here, too,
there's calmness. But the speech is the sepulchral beat
of a drum, and the drummer is a powerful man."

She reflected a little while, lowering her head for a
minute :

" I didn't want to speak with you about your son ; I
have never met him, and I don't like sad subjects of con-
versation. I know what it means to have a near one go
into exile. But I want to say to you, nevertheless, that
your son must be a splendid man. He's young — that's
evident; but he is a great soul. It must be good and ter-
rible to have such a son."

" Yes, it's good. And now it's no longer terrible."

81 475

MOTHER

Liudmila settled her smoothly combed hair with her
tawny hand and sighed softly. A light, warm shadow
trembled on her cheeks, the shadow of a suppressed smile.

" We are going to print it. Will you help me? "

" Of course."

" I'll set it up quickly. You lie down ; you had a hard
day; you're tired. Lie down here on the bed; I'm not
going to sleep ; and at night maybe I'll wake you up to
help me. When you have lain down, put out the lamp."

She threw two logs of wood into the stove, straight-
ened herself, and passed through the narrow door near
the stove, firmly closing it after her. The mother fol-
lowed her with her eyes, and began to undress herself,
thinking reluctantly of her hostess : " A stern person ;
and yet her heart burns. She can't conceal it. Every-
one loves. If you don't love you can't live."

Fatigue dizzied her brain ; but her soul was strangely
calm, and everything was illumined from within by a soft,
kind light which quietly and evenly filled her breast. She
was already acquainted with this calm ; it had come to
her after great agitation. At first it had slightly dis-
turbed her ; but now it only broadened her soul, strength-
ening it with a certain powerful but impalpable thought.
Before her all the time appeared and disappeared the
faces of her son, Audrey, Nikolay, Sasha. She took de-
light in them ; they passed by without arousing thought,
and only lightly and sadly touching her heart. Then she
extinguished the lamp, lay down in the cold bed, shriv-
eled up under the bed coverings, and suddenly sank into
a heavy sleep.

476

CHAPTER XVIII

HEN she opened her eyes the room was

filled by the cold, white glimmer of a clear

wintry day. The hostess, with a book in

her hand, lay on the sofa, and smiling

unlike herself looked into her face.

" Oh, father ! " the mother exclaimed, for some

reason embarrassed. " Just look 1 Have I been asleep a

long time?"

" Good morning ! " answered Liudmila. " It'll soon
be ten o'clock. Get up and we'll have tea."
" Why didn't you wake me up? "
" I wanted to. I walked up to you ; but you were so
fast asleep and smiled so in your sleep ! "

With a supple, powerful movement of her whole body
she rose from the sofa, walked up to the bed, bent toward
the face of the mother, and in her dull eyes the mother
saw something dear, near, and comprehensible.

" I was sorry to disturb you. Maybe you were seeing
a happy vision."

" I didn't see anything."

" All the same — ^but your smile pleased me. It was
so calm, so good — so great." Liudmila laughed, and her
laugh sounded velvety. " I thought of you, of your life
— your life is a hard one, isn't it? "

The mother, moving her eyebrows, was silent and
thoughtful.

" Of course it's hard ! " exclaimed Liudmila.
477

MOTHMR

"I don't know," said the mother carefully. " Some-
times it seems sort of hard; there's so much of all, its
all so serious, marvelous, and it moves along so quickly,
one thing after the other — so quickly "

The wave of bold excitement familiar to her over-
flowed her breast, filling her heart with images and
thoughts. She sat up in bed, quickly clothing her
thoughts in words.

" It goes, it goes, it goes all to one thing, to one side^
and like a fire, when a house begins to burn, upward!
Here it shoots forth, there it blazes out, ever brighter,
ever more powerful. There's a great deal of hardship,
you know. People suffer ; they are beaten, cruelly beaten ;
and everyone is oppressed and watched. They hide, live
like monks, and many joys are closed to them ; it's very
hard. And when you look at them well you see that the
hard things, the evil and difficult, are around them, on
the outside, and not within."

■Liudmila quickly threw up her head, looked at her
with a deep, embracing look. The mother felt that her
words did not exhaust her thoughts, which vexed and
offended her.

" You're not speaking about yourself," said her hostess
softly.

The mother looked at her, arose from the bed, and
dressing asked:

" Not about myself? Yes; you see in this, in all that
I live now, it's hard to think of oneself ; how can you
withdraw into yourself when you love this thing, and that
thing is dear to you, and you are afraid for everybody
and are sorry for everybody? Everything crowds into
your heart and draws you to all people. How can you
step to one side ? It's hard."

Liudmila laughed, saying softly :
478

MOTHMR

" And maybe it's not necessary."

" I don't know whether it's necessary or not ; but
this I do know — ^that people are becoming stronger than
life, wiser than life ; that's evident."

Standing in the middle of the room, half-dressed, she
fell to reflecting for a moment. Her real self suddenly ap-
peared not to exist — ^the one who lived in anxiety and fear
for her son, in thoughts for the safekeeping of his body.
Such a person in herself was no longer ; she had gone off
to a great distance, and perhaps was altogether burned up
by the fire of agitation. This had lightened and cleansed
her soul, and had renovated her heart with a new power.
She communed with herself, desiring to take a look into
her own heart, and fearing lest she awaken some anxiety
there.

"What are you thinking about?" Liudmila asked
kindly, walking up to her.

" I don't know."

The two women were silent, looking at each other.
Both smiled; then Liudmila walked out of the room,
saying :

" What is my samovar doing? "

The mother looked through the window. A cold,
bracing day shone in the street; her breast, too, shone
bright, but hot. She wanted to speak much about every-
thing, joyfully, with a confused feeling of gratitude to
somebody — she did not know whom — for all that came
into her soul, and lighted it with a ruddy evening light.
A desire to pray, which she had not felt for a long time,
arose in her breast. Somebody's young face came to her
memory, somebody's resonant voice shouted, " That's the
mother of Pavel Vlasov ! " Sasha's eyes flashed joyously
and tenderly. Rybin's dark, tall figure loomed up, the
bronzed, firm face of her son smiled. Nikolay blinked in

479

MOTHER

embarrassment; and suddenly everything was stirred
with a deep but light breath.

" Nikolay was right," said Liudmila, entering again.
" He must surely have been arrested. I sent the boy
there, as you told me to. He said policemen are hiding
in the yard ; he did not see the house porter ; but he saw
the policeman who was hiding behind the gates. And
spies are sauntering about ; the boy knows them."

"So?" The mother nodded her head. "Ah, poor
fellow!"

And she sighed, but without sadness, and was quietly
surprised at herself.

" Lately he's been reading a great deal to the city
workingmen; and in general it was time for him to dis-
appear," Liudmila said with a frown. " The comrades
told him to go, but he didn't obey them. I think that
in such cases you must compel and not try to per-
suade."

A dark-haired, red-faced boy with beautiful eyes and
a hooked nose appeared in the doorway.

" Shall I bring in the samovar ? " he asked in a ring-
ing voice.

"Yes, please, Seryozha. This is my pupil; have* you
never met him before ? "

" No."

" He used to go to Nikolay sometimes ; I sent him."

Liudmila seemed to the mother to be different to-day
— simpler and nearer to her. In the supple swaying of
her stately figure there was much beauty and power;
her sternness had mildened; the circles under her eyes
had grown larger during the night, her face paler and
leaner; her large eyes had deepened. One perceived a
strained exertion in her, a tightly drawn chord in her soul.

The boy brought in the samovar.
480

MOTHER

" Let me introduce you : Seryozha — Pelagueya Nil-
ovna, the mother of the workingman whom they sentenced
yesterday."

Seryozha bowed silently and pressed the mother's
hand. Then he brought in bread, and sat down to the
table. Liudmila persuaded the mother not to go home
until they found out whom the police were waiting for
there.

" Maybe they are waiting for you. I'm sure they'll
examine you."

" Let them. And if they arrest me, no great harm.
Only I'd like to have Pasha's speech sent off."

" It's already in type. To-morrow it'll be possible to
have it for the city and the suburb. We'll have some for
the districts, too. Do you know Natasha? "

"Of course!"

" Then take it to her."

The boy read the newspaper, and seemed not to be
listening to the conversation ; but at times his eyes looked
from the pages of the newspaper into the face of the
mother ; and when she met their animated glance she felt
pleased and smiled. She reproached herself for these
smiles. Liudmila again mentioned Nikolay without any
expression of regret for his arrest and, to the mother, it
seemed in perfectly natural tones. The time passed more
quickly than on the other days. When they had done
drinking tea it was already near midday.

" However ! " exclaimed Liudmila, and at the same
time a knock at the door was heard. The boy rose,
looked inquiringly at Liudmila, prettily screwing up his
eyes.

" Open the door, Seryozha. Who do you suppose it
is ? " And with a composed gesture she let her hand into
the pocket of the skirt, saying to the mother: " If it is

481

MOTHBR

the gendarmes, you, Pelagueya Nilovna, stand here in
this corner, and you, Ser "

" I know. The dark passage," the little boy answered
softly, disappearing.

The mother smiled. These preparations did not dis-
turb her ; she had no premonition of a misfortune.

The little physician walked in. He quickly said :

" First of all, Nikolay is arrested. Aha ! You here,
Nilovna? They're interested in you, too. Weren't you
there when he was arrested? "

" He packed me off, and told me to come here."

"Hm! I don't think it will be of any use to you.
Secondly, last night several young people made about
five hundred hektograph copies of Pavel's speech — ^not
badly done, plain and clear. They want to scatter them
throughout the city at night. I'm against it. Printed
sheets are better for the city, and the hektograph copies
ought to be sent off somewhere."

" Here, I'll carry them to Natasha ! " the mother ex-
claimed animatedly. " Give them to me."

She was seized with a great desire to sow them broad-
cast, to spread Pavel's speech as soon as possible. She
would have bestrewn the whole earth with the words of
her son, and she looked into the doctor's face with eyes
ready to beg.

" The devil knows whether at this time you ought to
take up this matter," the physician said irresolutely, and
took out his watch. " It's now twelve minutes of twelve.
The train leaves at 2.05, arrives there 5.15. You'll get
there in the evening, but not sufficiently late — and that's
not the point ! "

" That's not the point," repeated Liudmila, frowning.

"What then?" asked the mother, drawing up to
them. " The point is to do it well ; and I'll do it all right."

482

MOTHER

Liudmila looked fixedly at her, and chafing her fore-
head, remarked:

" It's dangerous for you."

"Why?" the mother challenged hotly.

" That's why ! " said the physician quickly and brok-
enly. "You disappeared from home an hour before
Nikolay's arrest. You went away to the mill, where you
are known as the teacher's aunt; after your arrival at
the mill the naughty leaflets appear. All this will tie
itself into a noose around your neck."

"They won't notice me there," the mother assured
them, warming to her desire. " When I return they'll
arrest me, and ask me where I was." After a moment's
pause she exclaimed : " I know what I'll say. From
there I'll go straight to the suburb ; I have a friend there
— Sizov. So I'll say that I went there straight from the
trial ; grief took me there ; and he, too, had the same mis-
fortune, his nephew was sentenced ; and I spent the whole
time with him. He'll uphold me, too. Do you see ? "

The mother was aware that they were succumbing to
the strength of her desire, and strove to induce them to
give in as quickly as possible. She spoke more and more
persistently, joy arising within her. And they yielded.

" Well, go," the physician reluctantly assented.

Liudmila was silent, pacing thoughtfully up and down
the room. Her face clouded over and her cheeks fell in.
The muscles of her neck stretched noticeably as if her
head had suddenly grown heavy ; it involuntarily dropped
on her breast. The mother observed this. The physi-
cian's reluctant assent forced a sigh from her.

" You all take care of me," the mother said, smiling.
" You don't take care of yourselves." And the wave of
joy mounted higher and higher.

" It isn't true. We look out for ourselves. We ought
483

MOTBER

to ; and we very much upbraid those who uselessly waste
their power. Ye-es. Now, this is the way you are to do.
You will receive the speeches at the station." He ex-
plained to her how the matter would be arranged; then
looking into her face, he said : " Well, I wish you suc-
cess. You're happy, aren't you ? " And he walked away
still gloomy and dissatisfied. When the door closed be-
hind him Liudmila walked up to the mother, smiling
quietly.

" You're a fine woman! I understand you." Taking
her by the arm, she again walked up and down the room.
" I have a son, too. He's already thirteen years old ; but
he lives with his father. My husband is an assistant
prosecuting attorney. Maybe he's already prosecuting
attorney. And the boy's with him. What is he going to
be ? I often think." Her humid, powerful voice trembled.
Then her speech flowed on again thoughtfully and qui-
etly. " He's being brought up by a professed enemy of
those people who are near me, whom I regard as the best
people on earth; and maybe the boy will grow up to be
my enemy. He cannot live with me; I live under a
strange name. I have not seen him for eight years.
That's a long time — eight years ! "

Stopping at the window, she looked up at the pale,
bleak sky, and continued: " If he were with me I would
be stronger; I would not have this wound in my heart,
the wound that always pains. And even if he were dead
it would be easier for me — " She paused again, and
added more firmly and loudly : " Then I would know he's
merely dead, but not an enemy of that which is higher
than the feeling of a mother, dearer and more necessary
than life."

" My darling," said the mother quietly, feeling as if
something powerful were burning her heart.

484

MOTHMR

"Yes, you are happy," Liudmila said with a smile..
" It's magnificent — ^the mother and the son side by side.
It's rare!"

The mother unexpectedly to herself exclaimed:

" Yes, it is good ! " and as if disclosing a secret, she
continued in a lowered voice : " It is another life. All
of you — Nikolay Ivanovich, all the people of the cause
of truth — ^are also side by side. Suddenly people have
become kin — I understand all — ^the words I don't under-
stand ; but everything else I understand, everything ! "

" That's how it is," Liudmila said. " That's how."

The mother put her hand on Liudmila's breast, press-
ing her ; she spoke almost in a whisper, as if herself med-
itating upon the words she spoke.

" Children go through the world ; that's what I under-
stand ; children go into the world, over all the earth, from
everywhere toward one thing. The best hearts go ; peo-
ple of honest minds ; they relentlessly attack all evil, all
darkness. They go, they trample falsehood with heavy
feet, understanding everything, justifying everybody —
justifying everybody, they go. Young, strong, they carry
their power, their invincible power, all toward one thing
— ^toward justice. They go to conquer all human misery,
they arm themselves to wipe away misfortune from the
face of the earth ; they go to subdue what is monstrous,
and they will subdue it. We will kindle a new sun, some-
body told me; and they will kindle it. We will create
one heart in life, we will unite all the severed hearts into
one — and they will unite them. We will cleanse the
whole of life — ^and they will cleanse it."

She waved her hand toward the sky.

" There's the sun."

And she struck her boSom.

" Here the most glorious heavenly sun of human hap-
48s

MOTHER

piness will be kindled, and it will light up the earth for-
ever— ^the whole of it, and all that live upon it — with
the light of love, the love of every man toward all, and
toward everything."

The words of forgotten prayers recurred to her mind,
inspiring a new faith. She threw them from her heart
like sparks.

" The children walking along the road of truth and rea-
son carry love to all ; and they clothe everything in new
skies ; they illumine everything with an incorruptible fire
issuing from the depths of the soul. Thus, a new life
comes into being, born of the children's love for the
entire world; and who will extinguish this love — who?
What power is higher than this? Who will subdue it?
The earth has brought it forth; and all life desires its
victory — all life. Shed rivers of blood, nay, seas of
blood, you'll never extinguish it."

She shook herself away from Liudmila, fatigued by
her exaltation, and sat down, breathing heavily. Liud-
mila also withdrew from her, noiselessly, carefully, as if
afraid of destroying something. With supple movement
she w^alked about the room and looked in front of her
with the deep gaze of her dim eyes. She seemed still
taller, straighter, and thinner ; her lean, stem face wore
a concentrated expression, and her lips were nervously
compressed. The stillness in the room soon calmed the
mother, and noticing Liudmila's mood she asked guiltily
and softly:

"Maybe I said something that wasn't quite right?"

Liudmila quickly turned around and looked at her as
if in fright.

" It's all right," she said rapidly, stretching out her
hand to the mother as if desiring to arrest something.
" But we'll not speak about it any more. Let it remain

486

MOTHER

as it was said ; let it remain. Yes." And in a calmer tone
she continued : " It's time for you to start soon ; it's far."

" Yes, presently. I'm glad ! Oh, how glad I am ! If
you only knew! I'm going to carry the word of my
son, the word of my blood. Why, it's like one's own
soul!"

She smiled; but her smile did not find a clear
reflection in the face of Liudmila. The mother felt that
Liudmila chilled her joy by her restraint; and the stub-
bom desire suddenly arose in her to pour into that obsti-
nate soul enveloped in misery her own fire, to burn her,
too, let her, too, sound in unison with her own heart
full of joy. She took Liudmila's hands and pressed them
powerfully;

" My dear, how good it is when you know that light
for all the people already exists in life, and that there will
be a time when they will begin to see it, when they will
bathe their souls in it, and all, all, will take fire in its
unquenchable flames."

Her good, large face quivered; her eyes smiled radi-
antly ; and her eyebrows trembled over them as if pinion-
ing their flash. The great thoughts intoxicated her ; she
put into them everything that burned her heart, every-
thing she had lived through; and she compressed the
thoughts into firm, capacious crystals of luminous words.
They grew up ever more powerful in the autumn heart,
illuminated by the creative force of the spring sun ; they
blossomed and reddened in it ever more brightly.

"Why, this is like a new god that's born to us, the
people. Everything''for all ; all for>verything ; the whole
of life in one, and the whole of life for everyone, and
everyone for the whole of life ! Thus I understand all of
you ; it is for this that you are on this earth, I see. You
are in truth comrades all, kinsmen all, for you are all

487

MOTHER

children of one mother, of truth. Truth has brought you
forth : aiid by her power you live ! "

Again overcome by the wave of agitation, she stopped,
fetched breath, and spread out her arms as if for an
embrace.

" And if I pronounce to myself that word ' comrades '
then I hear with my heart — they are going ! They" are
going from everywhere, the great multitude, all to one
thing. I hear such a roaring, resonant and joyous, like
the festive peal of the bells of all the churches of the
world."

She had arrived at what she desired. Liudmila's face
flashed in amazement. Her lips quivered ; and one after
the other large transparent tears dropped from her dull
eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

The mother embraced her vigorously and laughed
softly, lightly taking pride in the victory of her heart.
When they took leave of each other Liudmila looked into
the mother's face, and asked her softly :

" Do you know that it is well with you? " And her-
self supplied the answer : " Very well. Like a morning
on a high mountain."

4S8

CHAPTER XIX

^N the street the frozen atmosphere enveloped
her body invigoratingly, penetrated into her
throat, tickled her nose, and for a second
suppressed the breathing in her bosom.
The mother stopped and looked around.
Near to her, at the corner of the empty street, stood a
cabman in a shaggy hat ; at a slight distance a man was
walking, bent, his head sunk in his shoulders; and in
front of him a soldier was running in a jump, rubbing his
ears.

"The soldier must have been sent to the store," she
thought, and walked off listening with satisfaction to the
youthful crunching of the snow under her feet. She ar-
rived at the station early; her train was not yet ready;
but in the dirty waiting room of the third class, blackened
with smoke, there were numerous people already. The
cold drove in the railroad workmen; cabmen and some
poorly dressed, homeless people came in to warm them-
selves ; there were passengers, also a few peasants, a stout
merchant in a raccoon overcoat, a priest and his daugh-
ter, a pockmarked girl, some five soldiers, and bustling
tradesmen. The men smoked, talked, drank tea and
whisky at the buffet; some one laughed boisterously; a
wave of smoke was wafted overhead ; the door squeaked
as it opened, the windows rattled when the door was
jammed to; the odor of tobacco, machine oil, and salt
fish thickly beat into the nostrils

489

MOTHBR

The mother sat near the entrance and waited. When
the door opened a whiff of fresh air struck her, which
was pleasant to her, and she took in deep breaths. Heav-
ily dressed people came in with bundles in their hands;
they clumsily pushed through the door, swore, mumbled,
threw their things on the bench or on the floor, shook off
the dry rime from the collars of their overcoats and their
sleeves and wiped it oif their beards and mustaches, all
the time puffing and blowing.

A young man entered with a yellow valise in his hand,
quickly looked around, and walked straight to the mother.

" To Moscow, to your niece ? " he asked in a low
voice.

"Yes, to Tanya."

" Very well."

He put the valise on the bench near her, quickly
whipped out a cigarette, lighted it, and raising his hat,
silently walked toward the other door. The mother
stroked the cold skin of the valise, leaned her elbows on
it, and, satisfied, began again to look around at the people.
In a few moments she arose and walked over to the other
bench, nearer to the exit to the platform. She held the
valise lightly in her hand; it was not large, and she
walked with raised head, scanning the faces that flashed
before her.

One man in a short overcoat and its collar raised
jostled against her and jumped back, silently waving his
hand toward his head. Something familiar about him
struck her; she glanced around and saw that he was look-
ing at her with one eye gleaming out of his collar. This
attentive eye pricked her ; the hand in which she held the
valise trembled ; she felt a dull pain in her shoulder, and
the load suddenly grew heavy.

" I've seen him somewhere," she thought, and with
490

MOTHER

the thought suppressed the unpleasant, confused feeling
in her breast. She would not permit herself to define the
cold sensation that already pressed her heart quietly but
powerfully. It grew and rose in her throat, filling her
mouth with a dry, bitter taste, and compelling her to turn
around and look once more. As she turned he carefully
shifted from one foot to the other, standing on the same
spot; it seemed he wanted something, but could not de-
cide what. His right hand was thrust between the but-
tons of his coat, the other he kept in his pocket. On
account of this the right shoulder seemed higher than
the left.

Without hastening, she walked to the bench and sat
down carefully, slowly, as if afraid of tearing something
in herself or on herself. Her memory, aroused by a
sharp premonition of misfortune, quickly presented this
man twice to her imagination — once in the field outside
the city, after the escape of Rybin ; a second time in the
evening in the court. There at his side stood the con-
stable to whom she had pointed out the false way taken
by Rybin. They knew her ; they were tracking her — this
was evident.

"Am I caught?" she asked, and in the following
second answered herself, starting: " Maybe there is
still — " and immediately forcing herself with a great ef-
fort, she said sternly : " I'm caught. No use."

She looked around, and her thoughts flashed up in
sparks and expired in her brain one after the other.

" Leave the valise ? Go away ? "

But at the same time another spark darted up more
glaringly: "How much will be lost? Drop the son's
word in such hands ? "

She pressed the valise to herself trembling. " And to
go away with it? Where? To run? "
82 491

MOTHER

These thoughts seemed to her those of a stranger,
somebody from the outside, who was pushing them on
her by main force. They burned her. and their burns
chopped her brain painfully, lashed her heart like fiery
whipcords. They were an insult to the mother; they
seemed to be driving her away from her own self, from
Pavel, and everything which had grown to her heart.
She felt that a stubborn, hostile force oppressed her,
squeezed her shoulder and breast, lowered her stature,
plunging her into a fatal fear. The veins on her temples
began to pulsate vigorously, and the roots of her hair
grew warm.

Then with one great and sharp effort of her heart,
which seemed to shake her entire being, she quenched all
these cimning, petty, feeble little fires, saying sternly to
herself: "Enough!"

She at once began to feel better, and she grew
strengthened altogether, adding : " Don't disgrace your
son. Nobody's afraid."

Several seconds of wavering seemed to have the effect
of joining everything in her; her heart began to beat
calmly.

" What's going to happen now ? How will they go
about it with me ? " she thought, her senses strung to a
keener observation.

The spy called a station guard, and whispered some-
thing to him, directing his look toward her. The guard
glanced at him and moved back. Another guard came,
listened, grinned, and lowered his brows. He was an old
man, coarse-built, gray, unshaven. He nodded his head
to the spy, and walked up to the bench where the mother
sat. The spy quickly disappeared.

The old man strode leisurely toward the mother, in-
tently thrusting his angry eyes into the mother's face.

492

MOTHER

She sat farther back on the bench, trembling. " If they
only don't beat me, if they only don't beat me ! "

He stopped at her side ; she raised her eyes to his face.

" What are you looking at? " he asked in a moderated
voice.

" Nothing."

"Hm! Thief! So old and yet "

It seemed to her that his words struck her face once,
twice, rough and hoarse; they wounded her, as if they
tore her cheeks, ripped out her eyes.

" I'm not a thief ! You He ! " she shouted with all the
power of her chest; and everything before her jumped
and began to whirl in a whirlwind of revolt, intoxicating
her heart with the bitterness of insult. She jerked the
valise, and it opened.

" Look ! look ! All you people ! " she shouted, stand-
ing up and waving the bundle of the proclamations she
had quickly seized over her head. Through the noise in
her ears she heard the exclamations of the people who
came running up, and she saw them pouring in quickly
from all directions.

"What is it?"

"There's a spy!"

"What's the matter?"

" She's a thief, they say !

"She?"

"Would a thief shout?"

" Such a respectable one ! My, my, my ! "

"Whom did they catch?"

"I'm not a thief," said the mother in a full voice,
somewhat calmed at the sight of the people who pressed
closely upon her from all sides.

" Yesterday they tried the political prisoners ; my son
was one of them, Vlasov. He made a speech. Here it

493

MOTOBR

is. I'm carrying it to the people in order that they should
read, think about the truth."

One paper was carefully pulled from her hands. She
waved the papers in the air and flung them into the
crowd.

" She won't get any praise for that, either ! " some-
body exclaimed in a frightened voice.

" Whee-ee-w ! " was the response.

The mother saw that the papers were being snatched
up, were being hidden in breasts and pockets. This again
put her firmly on her feet ; more composed than forceful,
straining herself to her utmost, and feeling how agitated
pride grew in her raising her high above the people, how
subdued joy flamed up in her, she spoke, snatching bun-
dles of papers from the valise and throwing them right
and left into some person's quick, greedy hands.

" For this they sentenced my son and all with him.
Do you know ? I will tell you, and you believe the heart
of a mother ; believe her gray hair. Yesterday they sen-
tenced them because they carried to you, to all the people,
the honest, sacred truth. How do you live ? "

The crowd grew silent in amazement, and noiselessly
increased in size, pressing closer and closer together,
surrounding the woman with a ring of living bodies.

" Poverty, hunger, and sickness — that's what work
gives to the poor people. This order of things pushes us
to theft and to corruption; and over us, satiated and
calm, live the rich. In order that we should obey the
police, the authorities, the soldiers, all are in their hands,
all are against us, everything is against us. We perish all
our lives day after day in toil, always in filth, in deceit.
And others enjoy themselves and gormandize themselves
with our labor ; and they hold us like dogs on chains, in
ignorance. 'We know nothing, and in terror we fear

494

MOTHER

everything. Our life is night, a dark night ; it is a ter-
rible dream. They have poisoned us with strong intoxi-
cating poison, and they drink our blood. They glut
themselves to corpulence, to vomiting — ^the servants of
the devil of greed. Is it not so ? "

" It's so ! " came a dull answer.

Back of the crowd the mother noticed the spy and
two gendarmes. She hastened to give away the last
bundles ; but when her hand let itself down into the valise
it met another strange hand.

" Take it, take it all ! " she said, bending down.

A dirty face raised itself to hers, and a low whisper
reached her :

" Whom shall I tell ? Whom inform ? "

She did not answer.

" In order to change this life, in order to free all the
people, to raise them from the dead, as I have been raised,
some persons have already come who secretly saw the
truth in life ; secretly, because, you know, no one can say
the truth aloud. They hunt you down, they stifle you;
they make you rot in prison, they mutilate you. Wealth
is a force, not a friend to truth. Thus far truth is the ,
sworn enemy to the power of the rich, an irreconcilable
enemy forever ! Our children are carrying the truth into^^/
the world. Bright people, clean people are carrying it
to you. Thus far there are few of them; they are not
powerful ; but they grow in number every day. They put
their young hearts into free truth, they are making it an
invincible power. Along the route of their hearts it will
enter into our hard life; it will warm us, enliven us,
emancipate us from the oppression of the rich and from ;.,
all who have sold their souls. Believe this."

"Out of the way here!" shouted the gendarmes,
pushing the people. They gave way to the jostling un-

495

MOTHER

willingly, pressed the gendarmes with their mass, hin-
dered them perhaps without desiring to do so. The gray-
haired woman with the large, honest eyes in her kind
face attracted them powerfully ; and those whom life held
asunder, whom it tore from one another, now blended
into a whole, warmed by the fire of the fearless words
which, perhaps, they had long been seeking and thirsting
for in their hearts — ^their hearts insulted and revolted by
the injustice of their severe life. Those who were near
stood in silence. The mother saw their gloomy faces,
their frowning brows, their eyes, and felt their warm
breath on her face.

" Get up on the bench," they said.

" I'll be arrested immediately. It's not necessary."

" Speak quicker ! They're coming ! "

" Go to meet the honest people. Seek those who ad-
vise all the poor disinherited. Don't be reconciled, com-
rades, don't! Don't yield to the power of the powerful.
Arise, you WOTkinf pmnlgl you are thejnasters of life !
All live ijy your labor ; and only for your labor 3o they
untie your hands. Behold ! you are bound, and they have
killed, robbed your soul. Unite with your heart and your
mind into one power. It will overcome everything. You
have no friends except yourselves. That's what their
only friends say to the working people, their friends who
go to them and perish on the road to prison. Not so
would dishonest people speak, not so deceivers."

" Out of the way ! Disperse ! " the shouts of the gen-
darmes came nearer and nearer. There were more of
them already ; they pushed more forcibly ; and the people
in front of the mother swayed, catching hold of one
another.

" Is that all you have in the valise ? " whispered some-
body.

496

MOTHER

" Take it ! Take all ! " said the mother aloud, feeling
that the words disposed themselves into a song in her
breast, and noticing with pain that her voice did not hold
oiit, that it was hoarse, trembled, and broke.

" The word of my son is the honest word of a work-
ingman, of an unsold soul. You will recognize its incor-
ruptibility by its boldness. It is fearless, and if neces-
sary it goes even against itself to meet the truth. It goes
to you, working people, incorruptible, wise, fearless. Re-
ceive it with an open heart, feed on it ; it will give you the
power to understand everything, to fight against every-
thing for the truth, for the freedom of mankind. Receive
it, believe it, go with it toward the happiness of all the
people, to a new life with great joy ! "

She received a blow on the chest ; she staggered and
fell on the bench. The gendarmes' hands darted over the
heads of the people, and seizing collars and shoulders,
threw them aside, tore off hats, flung them far away.
Everything grew dark and began to whirl before the eyes
of the mother. But overcoming her fatigue, she again
shouted with the remnants of her power :

" People, gather up your forces into one single
force!"

A large gendarme caught her collar with his red hand
and shook her.

"Keep quiet!"

The nape of her neck struck the wall; her heart
was enveloped for a second in the stifling smoke of
terror; but it blazed forth again clearly, dispelling the
smoke.

" Go ! " said the gendarme.

"Fear nothing! There are no tortures worse than
those which you endure all your lives ! "

"Silence, I say!" The gendarme took her by the
497

MOTHER

arm and pulled her ; another seized her by the other arm,
• and taking long steps, they led her away.

" There are no tortures more bitter than those which
quietly gnaw at your heart every day, waste your breast,
and drain your power,"

The spy came running up, and shaking his fist in her
face, shouted:

" Silence, you old hag ! "

Her eyes widened, sparkled; her jaws quivered.
Planting her feet firmly on the slippery stones of the
floor, she shouted, gathering the last remnants of her
strength :

" The resuscitated soul they will not kill."

"Dog!"

The spy struck her face with a short swing of his
hand.

Something black and red blinded her eyes for a sec-
ond. The salty taste of blood filled her mouth.

A clear outburst of shouts animated her :

"Don't dare to beat her!"

" Boys ! "

"What is it?"

" Oh, you scoundrel ! "

" Give it to him ! "

" They will not drown reason m blood ; they will not
extinguish its truth ! "

She was pushed in the neck and the back, beaten
about the shpulders, on the head. Everything began to
turn around, grow giddy in a dark whirlwind of shouts,
howls, whistles. Something thick and deafening crept
into her ear, beat in her throat, choked her. The floor
under her feet began to shake, giving way. Her legs
bent, her body trembled, burned with pain, grew heavy,
and staggered powerless. But her eyes were not extin-

498

MOTHBR

guished, and they saw many other eyes which flashed and
gleamed with the bold sharp fire known to her, with the
fire dear to her heart.

She was pushed somewhere into a door.

She snatchedher hand away from the gendarmes and
caught hold of the doorpost.

" You will not drown the truth in seas of blood "

They struck her hand.

" You heap up only malice on yourself, you unwise
ones ! It will fall on you "

Somebody seized her neck and began to choke her.
There was a rattle in her throat.

" You poor, sorry creatures "

(1)

THE END

499

By DAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPS.

The Second Generation.

Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50.

" The Second Generation " is a douhle-decked romance
in one volume, telling the two love-stories of a young
American and his sister, reared in luxury and suddenly left
without means by their father, who felt that money was
proving their ruination and disinherited them for their own
sakes. Their struggle for life, love and happiness makes a
powerful love-story of the middle West.

" The book equals the best of the great storj' tellers of all
time." — Cleveland Plain Dealer.

" ' The Second Generation,' by David Graham Phillips, is not
only the most important novel of the new year, but it is one of the
most important ones of a number of years past."

— Philadelphia Inquirer.

"A thoroughly American book is 'The Second Generation.'
. . . The characters are drawn with force and discrimination."

— Si. Louis Globe Democrat.

"Mr. Phillips' book is thoughtful, well conceived, admirably
written and intensely interesting. The story 'works out' well,
and though it is made to sustain the theory of the writer it does
so in a very natural and stimulating manner. In the writing of the
' problem novel ' Mr. Phillips has won a foremost place among our
younger American authors. "^ — Boston Herald.

" ' The Second Generation ' promises to become one of the nota-
ble novels of the year. It will be read and discussed while a less
vigorous novel will be forgotten within a week."

— Springfield Union.

" David Graham Phillips has a way, a most clever and convinc-
ing way, of cutting through the veneer of snobbishness and bringing
real men and women to Sie surface. He strikes at shams, yet has
a wholesome belief in the people behind them, and he forces them
to justify his good opinions." — Kansas City Times.

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.

THE LEADING NOVEL OF TODAY.

The Fighting Chance.

By Robert W. Chambers. Illustrated by A. B.
Wenzell. i2mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.

In "The Fighting Chance" Mr. Chambers has taken
for his hero, a young fellow who has inherited with his
wealth a craving for liquor. The heroine has inherited a
certain rebelliousness and dangerous caprice. The two,
meeting on the brink of ruin, fight out their battles, two
weaknesses joined with love to make a strength. It is re-
freshing to find a story about the rich in which all the
women are not sawdust at heart, nor all the men satyrs.
The rich have their longings, ,their ideals, their regrets,
as well as the poor ; they have their struggles and inherited
evils to combat. It is a big subject, painted with a big
brush and a big heart.

" After 'The House of Mirth ' a New York society novel
has to be very good not to suffer fearfully by comparison.
'The Fighting Chance' is very good and it does not
suffer." — Cleveland Plain Dealer.

"There is no more adorable person in recent fiction
than Sylvia Landis." — New York Evening Sun,

" Drawn with a master hand." — Toledo Blade.

"An absorbing tale which claims the reader's interest
to the end." — Detroit Eree Press.

" Mr. Chambers has written many brilliant stories, but
this is his masterpiece." — Pittsburg Chronicle Telegraph.

D, APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.

A MASTERPIECE OF FICTION.

The Guarded Flame.

By W. B. Maxwell, Author of "Vivien."
Cloth, $1.50.

" ' The Guarded Flame, by W. B. Maxwell, is a booK
to challenge the attention of the reading public as a re-
markable study of moral law and its infraction. Mr. Max-
well is the son of Miss M. E. Braddon (Mrs. John Maxwell),
whose novels were famous a generation ago, and his first
book 'Vivien' made the English critics herald him as a
new force in the world of letters. ' The Guarded Flame '
is an even more astonishing production, a big book that
takes rank with the most important fiction of the year.
It is not a book for those who read to be amused or to be
entertained. It touches the deepest issues of life and death."

— Albany Argus.

" The most powerfully written book of the year."

— TAe Independent.

" ' The Guarded Flame ' is receiving high praise from
the critics everywhere." — Chicago Record-Herald.

"This is a book which cannot fail to make its mark."

— Detroit News.

"Great novels are few and the appearance of one at
any period must give the early reviewer a thrill of discovery.
Such a one has come unheralded ; but from a source whence
it might have been confidently expected. The author is
W. B. Maxwell, son of the voluminous novelist known to
the world as Miss Braddon. His novel is entitled 'The
Guarded Flame.' " — Philadelphia Press.

" The books of W. B. Maxwell are essentially for think-
ers."— St. Louis Post-Dispatch.

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.

BY LLOYD OSBOURNE.

Three Speeds Forward.

Uniquely illustrated with full-page illustrations,
head and tail pieces and many sketches by Karl
Anderson and H. D. Williams. Ornamental Cloth,
$i.oo.

" ' Three Speeds Forward' is an amusing automobile story by Lloyd
Osboume, in which the ostensible teller of what happened is the girl
heroine. A little runabout is the important factor in the love romance.
The book is prettily bound and printed and is illustrated." — Toledo Blade.

" ' Three Speeds Forward,' by Lloyd Osboume, is a very brief and
most agreeable novelette dealing with modem society and the chug-
chug wagon." — Philadelphia Inquirer.

" The climax of this story is original and most humorous. The
action is rapid and consistent with the subject in hand. Altogether it is
a most enjoyable little volume, well illustrated and attractively bound."

— Milwaukee Sentinel.

" It is a bright and sprightly little story, very strongly flavored with
gasoline, but quite readable. It is attractively and characteristically
fllustrated."— /V^a; Yori Times.

Wild Justice.

Illustrated. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.

" Lloyd Osboume's stories of the South Sea Islands are second only
to Stevenson's on the same theme. ' Wild Justice ' is a volume of these
short stories, beginning with that strong and haunting tale, ' The Rene-
gade.' These are stories which will bear reading more than once.
They have an atmosphere that it is restful to breathe, once in a while,
to the dwellers in cities and the toilers of these Northern lands where
life is such a stern afifair." — Denver Post.

" Mr. Lloyd Osboume's nine stories of the South Sea Islands (' Wild
Justice') are told with a. Kiplingesque vigor, and well illustrate their
title. AU are eminently readable — ^not overweighted with tragedy, as
is the wont of tales that deal with the remote regions of the earth."

— New Yori Times.

" Mr. Osboume in ' Wild Justice ' has given us a series of stories
about the Samoan Islands and their islanders and their white invaders,
visitors and conquerors which are vivid with humor and pathos."

— Alew Yori Herald.

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.

TWO CHARMING STORIES.

The Little King of Angel's Landing.

By Elmore Elliott Peake. Illustrated.
Cloth, $1.25.

This is a story of a plucky little cripple of indomitable
energy and perseverance. How, boy-like, he forms an ideal
love for his school teacher and wins a great voting contest
for her ; how he patiently saves his pennies to get himself
"fixed"; how his faithful dog is killed and the shock it
brings to the frail little soul ; how he struggles onward,
upward, and at last comes into his birthright — all these are
incidents of a story the kindly humor and infinite pathos
of which are deeply appealing.

" There are tears and smiles in every chapter of • The Little King
of Angel's Landing.' " — Denver Post.

"There is a mighty human interest — a something that takes hold
of your heart and sometimes hurts it a bit, but vphich presently makes
you correspondingly glad— in ' The Little King of Angel's Landing.' "

— Cincinnati Times-Star.

The House of Hawley.

By Elmore Elliott Peake. Ornamental
Cloth, $1.50.

" ' The House of Hawley,' by Elmore Elliott Peake, is one of the
' homiest ' stories we have met in a long while. . . . Instead of calling
so often for the great American novel, perhaps we should give more
attention to the many good American novels, of which 'The House
of Hawley ' is one, containing faithful and interesting portrayal of life
in some one of the many and diversified sections of the country."

— New York Chbe.

"There is not a dull page In the whole book. It is well worth
reading." — St. Louis Star.

"'The House of Hawley" is a fresh, readable story by Elmore
Elliott Peake, the theme of which is laid in the ' Egypt ' of southern
Illinois. The title fits better than usual, and the characters depicted
are real people. There is not a single stick of dead timber among the
various men and women." — Chicago Record-Herald.

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK

A ROMANCE OF THE CIVIL WAR.

The Victory.

By Molly Elliott Sea well, author of "The
Chateau of Montplaisir," " The Sprightly Romance
of Marsac," etc. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50.

"With so delicate a touch and appreciation of the detail
of domestic and plantation life, with so wise comprehension
of the exalted and sometimes stilted notions of Southern
honor and with humorous depiction of African fidelity and
bombast to interest and amuse him, it only gradually dawns
on a reader that 'The Victory' is the truest and most
tragic presentation yet before us of the rending of home
ties, the awful passions, the wounded affections personal
and national, and the overwhelming questions of honor
which weighed down a people in the war of son against
father and brother against brother." — Hartford Courant.

" Among the many romances written recently about the
Civil War, this one by Miss Seawell takes a high place. . . .
Altogether, 'The Victory,' a title significant in several
ways, makes a strong appeal to the lover of a good tale."

—TAe Outlook.

"Miss Seawell's narrative is not only infused with a
tender and sympathetic spirit of romance and surcharged
with human interests, but discloses, in addition, careful and
minute study of local conditions and characteristic man-
nerisms. It is an intimate study of life on a Virginia
plantation during an emergent and critical period of Amer-
ican history." — Philadelphia North American.

" It is one of the romances that make, by spirit as well as
letter, for youth and high feeling. It embodies, perhaps, the
best work this author yet has done." — Chicago Record-Herald.

" Aside from the engaging story itself and the excellent
manner in which it is told there is much of historic interest
in this vivid word-picture of the customs and manners of a
period which has formed the background of much fiction."

— Brooklyn Citizen.

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.